


Tales of The Samurai and The Stray

by CreativeSweets, TheDarkSide



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Animal Instincts, Animal Traits, Animalistic, Breeding, Explicit Sexual Content, Feudal Japan, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pederasty, Rough Sex, Samurai, Scent Marking, Shudou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 64,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27959873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeSweets/pseuds/CreativeSweets, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkSide/pseuds/TheDarkSide
Summary: Hashirama is aronin, a samurai without a lord or master who wanders like a restless yokai.Tobirama is a sneaky little stray who climbs the wrong tree after a successful theft.
Relationships: Past Senju Butsuma/Senju Hashirama, Senju Hashirama/Other(s), Senju Hashirama/Senju Tobirama, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Tajima
Comments: 44
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another RP between myself and Dark. This one happens to be one of (if not _my top_ ) favorites. It's long, it's got a little bit of everything in here.
> 
> Please read over the tags to make sure you're okay with the themes going to be present in this fic. As always, the back button is an option. _Yes_ all the pairings in the tags are relevant. Main (and endgame) pairing is HashiTobi.
> 
> If I miss something in the tags, please feel free to drop a comment!
> 
> Please enjoy!

Hashirama loves and hates towns like this; tucked away in the rice fields under a mountain, close knit and sparsely populated. He's revered in places like this, a great warrior to be plied with fat roasts and fat pussies alike. He enjoys that, don't get him wrong, there's nothing like strumming a clit on a full belly, mouth cleaned with plum wine and lips tacky with _dessert_. It's great, it really is. 

But Hashirama is a _ronin_ , a samurai without a lord or master who wanders like a restless yokai. Something to be feared, barely contained restless wrath and a thirst for blood that eclipses his thirst for women’s dripping pleasure.

 _Superstitions_ , he thinks, _are the worst when there's only so many minds for them to spread to_. They take hold that way, take root and grow into dark, heavy looks and shuttered shoji. It can make things difficult.

He does his best to be friendly at the market, and with his sunny demeanour things are a little easier this late in autumn. It certainly doesn't hurt that his sleeves sound heavy with coin. He plies the locals with both, strokes little ladies with his eyes and voice and pays them as well as he can for their wares.

He's just stealing a peck on the cheek from the middle aged woman who is tending the dango stall when there's angry shouting and a little creature streaks passed his legs.

Hashirama growls when the boiling water that was probably intended for it lands on his ankles, and turns narrow eyes at the shopkeeper holding the pot.

A flurry of apologies, hands fluttering, but Hashirama waves them off. His good mood is doused, and he turns to follow whatever it was that seems to be so hated by the village. He's not usually in the habit of taking on petty crime, but small theft stems most often from need.

He loses it near the inn and shrugs it off with a sigh. _Can't help everyone_ , he thinks to himself, ducking into the warmth of fire, tea and food, belly already growling for another bowl of the mushroom soup and heating for another serving of the kitchen help.

Tobirama, a fitting name for him. He's a very sneaky kitten, but doors are hard, and he's always caught when he attempts to go through them, especially when he was smaller.

Now that he's a little bigger, he attempts the windows more often.

But on a day like today, where it's clear and bright and _sunny_ , he knows the market in his town will be bustling, and if he's fast enough, he might even be able to snag something very yummy. The only problem is all the _townspeople_ that will be out and about with the nice weather.

It's all too easy to spot the newcomer from his little shaded alcove—big and with antlers that make him appear even taller than he is, and of course, Tobirama is experienced with how to slip by, to use a newcomer's distraction so he might be able to eat.

He's less focused on the newcomer, and more on the tempting grilled meats on display only a short ways away from the man. Tobirama's ears twitch once when there's a booming laugh and he shuffles on the balls of his feet, but as soon as all the eyes turn away, he races across the street and snags whatever will fit, whatever he _can_ , and immediately dashes away.

Towards the newcomer.

The shout is expected, and he's already eeling his way between the tall man's legs and the stand that has the yummy sticky balls. There's a loud crash but Tobirama can't look back, can't stop until he's in a safer location to eat.

Footsteps follow and Tobirama panics, stuffs whatever is in his hands in his mouth to free them up to help him climb up Mean Grandpa's tall tree. There's still enough leaves on it to provide him shelter, but he doesn't typically climb up here because Mean Grandpa gets the other bad people with the rocks and big sticks if he can't climb down before he's noticed.

After he's sure he's lost whoever it was following him, he cups his hands to keep all the food from falling as he gnaws the meat off the little pokey sticks. They fall to the ground as he licks his pink, hurting hands clean.

* * *

"Oh! Yes! Samurai-sama-aaaah!"

 _You're a loud one_ , he grins to himself, crossing his fingers deep inside the cook and pummelling her pussy with quick thrusts. Her legs are pinned wide open, tied to his pack on one side and grasped firmly by the ankle on another.

Her face is flushed a blotchy red, freckled and plump, framed by dark hair. She's pretty, plain and soft, curved generously with tastings during the cooking. Her breasts, barely contained by her rucked-up kimono, jiggle with every wet smack of his knuckles against her entrance.

"Ah-alpha! There— _There_!" He grins, crooks his index finger over her special spot and watches her thrash. A few hard thrusts and a rough thumb to her clit to chase her first little peak, and he sends her careening right over into the second, mouth gaping and eyes rolling as her legs jerk. _Perfect_ , he thinks, drinking in the sight of her ecstasy as he laps the gush of it up from his palm.

He eats well that evening, hands warmed on a plump backside and pickled vegetables placed on his tongue with a coy smile. He sleeps well too, sated with a surprisingly skillful handjob. _Must be all the mochi she makes_ , he thinks just before sleep claims him.

The morning is decidedly less welcoming than yesterday, dawning with frost on the leaves and a cold fog that clings to clothes and digs deep. It promises a bitter winter, grey skies an ominous foreshadowing of snow.

Hashirama is just tightening the straps of his saddle bags when the innkeeper approaches with the village head. They thank him for his patronage, bowing deep and reverent. Not a breath later they offer him a rope tether, a sacrifice to blood his sword and make amends for the hot water he got to his ankles yesterday.

Bound on the other end, kneeling in the dirt and tied hand and foot is what can only be the streak that passed him yesterday; a very pathetic yokai or an absolutely filthy child. It's hissing and spitting, wriggling something fierce.

Hashirama lifts it with one hand, thanks his hosts over the yowls, and mounts his horse. When the noise of upset only gets louder after the bundle is laid over his thighs, Hashirama digs his fingers into a filthy scruff.

* * *

The well of hot springs is half an hour's brisk trot out of town, rock carved into a divot for washing, filled with a trickle from the pools. The child yowls at the sound of it, thrashes and does it's best roll off the horse while Hashirama digs out his flea shampoo.

He grasps it by the leg and undoes the bonds, grimacing at the clawing and biting he receives as thanks. It only gets worse as he drags the little wildling to the water, and finally Hashirama has no choice but to scruff it firmly.

"Shh, it's alright, I'm helping you," he tries to reassure it. All that makes it do is yowl louder, and Hashirama sets to his task in silence, ears pressed back with discomfort. The water comes away a filthy brown, mud and dried blood and flea dirt washing away with the eggs and corpses of parasites.

Tobirama thrashes in the grip of the tall man he snuck by yesterday. He didn’t mean to fall asleep in the tree! He didn’t mean to be found and tied up and dragged to the tall man! And then the _horse_ —

The water is warm and a temptation but Tobirama doesn’t want the hands touching him, doesn’t want to be soaked because being soaked means being _cold_ and Tobirama _hates_ being cold.

“No!” Tobirama screeches and brings his tail between his legs.

It feels as though the large man is attempting to take his head off with how fingers keep digging in and tugging and rubbing. Tobirama sobs and sputters as water goes everywhere. Hands touch his tail.

"Noooo—" Tobirama breaks out in a pathetic snarl, his hands going down between his legs as he shivers under the sensation of his scalp tingling. He doesn't want his tail to feel like that either!

The tall man is _strong_ , though, and like this he can't do anything, because he's not moving his hands. He's seen what happened to the other one on the streets that got caught. He'd rather pull his tail off than suffer _that_.

Another bout of water hits his head and a large hand bends his head forward while the other lifts parts of his hair and digs through them all. Sharp pricks of pain and Tobirama is too tuckered out to do more than hiss and growl. Then, to make matters even _worse_ his ears are flipped inside out and the sensitive insides feel like they're being scraped out!

Tobirama shivers.

His large shirt is tugged off of him easily, and Tobirama is quick to shove his hands back between his legs, curling his tail. He sneezes, and more water is poured over his body, a large hand rubbing and rubbing and nearly toppling Tobirama over. It's not very pleasant, especially when his arms are tugged up and he's cleaned _everywhere_.

Thankfully, however, his tail is enough of a deterrent, and the man doesn't attempt to clean him there, but he does stare at him and Tobirama stares back, until he begrudgingly realizes that he's not leaving until Tobirama cleans himself. Huffing, Tobirama quickly scrubs between his legs, and makes sure his tail stays protectively around himself.

His shirt is all wet and gross and he doesn't look forward to putting it back on, but reaches for it anyways. The man kicks it away and Tobirama hisses before something is draped over his shoulders. It's dry, and then two hands are guiding his own through holes and sleeves are rolled up. The front of the fabric is tucked securely around him before something is wrapped around his waist.

Tentatively, Tobirama lifts an arm to sniff at the fabric. It's definitely the man's, and Tobirama narrows his eyes at him because in this fabric, he can't move around as much as his big shirt.

"Well would you look at that," he tells the little kitten that has emerged from under the muck and a dirty rag, "your fur is _white_." it certainly hadn't been white when he'd started, and Hashirama glances at the brown water with a nose wrinkled in disgust.

He opens the sluices and drains the little bathing pool of dirty water. _All of this would be an exercise in futility if I just re-infected him with fleas_. He grumbles, motioning the boy closer.

When all he gets is a hiss, Hashirama shrugs and lifts the strip of cured venison to his lips. He makes a production of taking a bite and chewing, swallows loudly and sighs to drive it home. When he offers the bitten piece, clearly safe to eat, it's snatched from his fingers. The sodden kitten glares and growls as he tears off bites and swallows without chewing more than necessary.

Hashirama washes quickly, an eye and an ear trained on the stray kitten.

Tobirama, now scrubbed nearly pink and his skin tingly and belly full of another meal, sits as far away from the man as he thinks is possible. He keeps an eye on the man, grumbling and inching himself closer and closer to the pack laying haphazardly on the ground and opened, where Tobirama can see more of that meat.

The man is still washing, and Tobirama is close enough to the pack that he focuses more on the pack than he does the man, slowly and carefully testing each motion for sound as he listens to the water run. He's almost got his hands on another piece when a large hand smacks the back of his neck and his hisses and spits as his body falls lax.

 _So close_.

It isn't fair that the man can pick him up so easily. It especially isn't fair that he seems intent on yanking and tugging his hair and fur more. Tobirama yowls when his tail is lifted and the moment something _rasps_ against it he falls deathly still and mews in fear.

Hashirama lifts a brow at the boy in his lap, twirling the tanto almost absently. The kitten has gone still, hunkered in on himself and tucked in his ears. It hardly takes an experienced samurai to read the fear in the press of his ears.

He works quickly, shearing away the matted fur that hangs in clumps from the long tail. The result isn't pretty, but it's only fur, it will grow back. The mushy pile of tangled white is kicked into a hole out of sight, and Hashirama runs an oied hand over the boney tail.

The hair is better, less matted. He only has to grab fistfulls and cut, trimming the mess down and rubbing it dry before he reclothes himself. "Come, back on the horse."

Hashirama manages to catch the bolting kitten, scruffs him and tucks away the meat that made such a good lure. He will need to teach the boy to eat slower. _And to chew, though food motivation should make controlling him easy_.

He hisses and spits when Hashirama settles him in the saddle and tries to bolt the moment he let's the kittens scruff go. A block with an arm and meat pulled from his sleeve is enough to stop him, and Hashirama tucks him close to eat. The meat is held safely in a fist, so that the kitten can only have a little at a time as they set off.

* * *

Tobirama is unhappy and cold. Especially cold.

And now the food in front of him is held out so temptingly, but he knows there's _more_ inside the fist, so he doesn't hesitate to chomp right now, snagging both the little bit of meat and some finger.

His mouth opens wider than he wants it to, and therefore he whines a bit when the sharp pain in his mouth happens, and goes back to simply gnawing where the meat is poking up, using both his hands to keep the fist right where he wants it while using his tongue to catch any stray bits that fall off.

It's definitely not enough to make up for the fact that he feels like a shorn little sheep, shivering and stress-purring.

The wind picks up and there's not as much hair and fur left on his head to insulate him. He debates his options for a minute until a gust of wind gives him goosebumps. And then he uses one hand at a time to pull on the thick, warm jacket behind him and pulls it forward. His nails dig into the hand when it shifts and he lashes his tail from where it's curled up and around him.

A warning growl because he can and _will_ bite again if the man thinks to take the food away. He can't remember the last time he's had so much to eat! And when it's obvious that the hand is staying, he goes back to gnawing at the strip, safely warmed by the heavy coat surrounding him. He purrs with satisfaction.

His eyes dart curiously and his ears swivel to pick up sound. He's never traveled beyond the corners of the rice fields of his village before.

Hashirama smirks, curving his body over the shivering little kitten. He can feel the purr against his chest, light and thrumming and subtly different from earlier. It's...relaxed now, content. The kitten is pliant with warmth and food, alert and curious before him.

He suspects a sore tooth for the noise of discomfort earlier, a soft little mew that he wouldn't have heard if the kitten hadn't been sitting right in his lap. _That can be seen to tomorrow morning_ , the light is too low now for him to do much, and the kitten is likely still suspicious after the bath.

He's just moving the nibbles from one hand to another when the boy bites him and digs in claws. Hashirama is accustomed to pain, and his sword calluses are fairly thick, but he'll have to start trimming away the food aggression.

He growls, leans down to grip the boys scruff between his teeth and pulls his hand away from snagging claws and gripping teeth. He has to shake the kitten off, shifting in the saddle to tuck the boy closer.

Genma makes an irritable noise under them, jerking his head and turning an ear back at them, reprimanding. Hashirama chuckles around the mouth full of scruff, grunting when the kitten tenses. He sets the boy down, tucks him away under cloak and haori and traps him with food.

"Sorry Genma, I don't think the kitten likes horses. You're not exactly a friendly face, either."

It gets him a snort, and Hashirama replies in kind as he ties the reigns around the pommel. The snow has begun to fall, and Hashirama tugs his hood up and clasps it around his antlers to keep it from going down his neck. They're entering the forest, and he wants his sword arm free.

The man talks so much that it takes Tobirama a few minutes to notice that he's _stopped_. His purrs taper off as he intently listens. Hoots and faint cricket chirps, the crunch of the terrible beast's feet in the leaves. His eyes have adjusted to the darkness, but his face is nearly completely covered in the man's warm clothes, only the tips of his ears peeking out. It's easy enough to wriggle his head until his eyes can see.

It's an eerie sort of quiet, and each hoot or noise of night creatures has his ears twitching. He's never ventured into any forest before, not very far into them, at least. The villagers never entered the forest, and sometimes would talk about terrible beasts and spirits lurking there.

A scared whine builds in his throat but he strangles it down as best he can. The man carries a sword, he's Tobirama's best bet in surviving should anything attack.

The tenseness gradually leaves his frame as time goes on, and eventually he is lured into a light sleep by the rhythmic motions.

Absently, his ears still track the various sounds, and he wakes when a new sound happens, head automatically turning to see—

The man already has this sword drawn, slicing it in a powerful downward stroke against the hissing, cloaked figure charging them with a dagger. Tobirama tenses with the urge to flee, but he's so high up on the horse and besides, swords and metal are much scarier than sticks and stones.

He stays awake and alert as they continue traveling. He's used to staying up in the darkness, but it's usually not quite _this_ dark inside the village. His pupils are blown as wide as possible to take in as much light to help him out.

* * *

It's easy to forget how quickly the sky darkens now that winter approaches. It certainly doesn't help that the time he'd taken to bathe the stray kitten and himself has eaten away at the travelling time. He's late, and by the time they crest the hill and the town comes into view, the dinner lanterns have been lit.

The temperature is dropping, and Hashirama’s breath mists the air. The streets are clear when they enter the town, the buzz of conversation muted by the screens and walls. The kitten is curled close, chasing warmth.

The stray keeps close, even when Hashirama finds an inn and dismounts. The night clerk is a beta, an owl with large orange eyes and curled talons. A fringe of tufted feathers accentuates her heart shaped face, and Hashirama makes sure to give her a charming smile while they discuss rooms.

"Two futons? Who else—oh! There you are! Such a sweet little kitten, I didn't see you all tucked away there! Is he yours?"

The kitten promptly hides behind Hashirama’s legs the moment attention turns to him, and the hen owl hoots a gentle titter of laughter at the shyness. Hashirama meets her with chuckles, tugging bashfully at his hair.

"Ah, no...he's—he's a stray, I'm just fostering for now." The golden eyes go soft, and Hashirama can practically see her melt for them. "Say, uh—" he begins, dropping his ears and tipping his face shyly, "I know it's late, but is there any way the cook could turn a blind eye to the two of us having something quick in the kitchen?"

She smirks at him, and Hashirama makes sure to protest adequately when she insists on getting the cook to make them something. The serving girl shows them to the kitchen before going off to prepare their rooms.

The cook is an omega rabbit, voluptuous and short, with lop ears tied back with a ribbon. She gives Hashirama a slow, dirty once over, and concedes to grill them fish, miso and rice in return for a few kisses.

He beckons her close the moment the fish hits the pan, leans down and tips her face up to open with a teasing brush of lips. A short, sharp noise of want, and he dips in again, moulding their lips and licking her open for him. She submits beautifully, runs her open palms over the thick muscle of his chest, and when they part she's flushed and panting.

"Come find me after breakfast," she murmurs to him as she sets their food down and departs. A pause in the doorway for a wink and a wriggle of her lifted tail before she disappears.

The little kitten is staring at him, and when Hashirama holds out a piece of fish on his chopsticks, the boy tries to go for the plate. Hashirama catches his wrists in one hand and pulls him onto his lap.

"Ah-ah. You'll eat what I give you, _slowly_. Itadakimasu."

He offers the fish again, and this time it's accepted. Still no chewing, but one step at a time.

Tobirama wonders if it's because he looks different that he's allowed inside, if it's because he's got different clothes, or the man himself. Maybe it's all of it.

He's never been inside a place as fancy as this, and every little noise has him taking a fraction of a step closer to the man as the lady from before shows them to their room. He gets so close, at one point, that his bare toes get stepped on, and he hisses a bit but he's had worse.

The man doesn't seem too amused by how Tobirama keeps attempting to get as close as possible. The lady gives a hooting chuckle which makes him cling even tighter.

Thankfully they make it to their room where two futons are laying out, and Tobirama supposes a big and tall elk would need two. His eyes move on, figuring out which corners of the room are safest, where the windows are. There's a small little tree in a pot on the windowsill, and Tobirama is very tempted to knock it over.

But it would make a better distraction, should he need it later, so he leaves it be with a curious sniff.

Further investigation reveals a _closet_ , which is dark and empty, and absolutely where he's going to stay and sleep for a little bit. He's just curling up when a hand closes around his ankle and pulls him out, grabbing his waist when he gets exposed further. He yowls and wriggles as his feet dangle from being held up, hands pushing ineffectively at the ones with an iron grasp around his waist.

He's deposited on a futon, and as soon as he goes to sit up the blanket is thrown over him and tucked in around him, limiting his movements. He stills when it becomes apparent that the man wants him to sleep _here_. Here, on the softest thing he's ever laid on, discounting that one time he was thrown and landed on a pile of fabrics in the market.

Tobirama's ears flatten against his head, unhappy that he was forced here, but he doesn't attempt to leave the cocoon of blanket he is swaddled in.

The man finally shifts away from him, propping himself up. Tobirama watches as he pulls out one of those little books with scribbles in it and stares at it. Tobirama doesn't understand why some people spend _so much time_ just, looking at the weird scribbles.

When the man's gaze meets his, Tobirama bristles, and rolls over.

Hashirama blinks, ears flicking. The kitten is so much _trouble_ , an almost feral little thing that hisses and spits and gets underfoot. _Kami know he's so tiny that if I fall on him I'll squash him_ he grumbles to himself, turning the page.

After some consideration, Hashirama marks his page and flips to the beginning. It's one of his worn, well loved books, and he reads the kitten the first few pages of the tale of two lovers; one a samurai like himself and the other a Lord's favourite concubine.

He reads until his voice grows hoarse, one ear turned back to listen is his only encouragement. Hashirama yawns, sets down the book and pulls out his headrest, high and well padded to ensure he doesn't accidentally put holes in the futon.

He kicks off his umanori, folds them neatly and unties his fundoshi. Those are set outside, and will be washed and returned to him. His kimono is folded neatly, and Hashirama slips his yukata on and ties it loosely.

"Oyasuminasai," he murmurs once he's tied his hair, and Hashirama settles on his side and slides into the space between meditation and sleep where he can rest while remaining alert.

Tobirama listens as the man moves about and settles down. Once it's been quiet for the span of several breaths, Tobirama shifts to not feel quite so strangled by the blankets.

He pulls the blanket over his head because _someone_ decided to get rid of his fur and now his head is cold. Shuffling around more he winds up untucking the blanket around his feet and so he curls up to protect himself.

Reluctantly, he sticks just his face out of the blanket to look at the man. He's still asleep, but Tobirama _knows_ he's very, very warm. The man's got his arms and shoulders and some of his chest sticking out from the blankets! Clearly he's warm.

Tobirama watches for several more moments before scooting closer, carefully watching for any movement. He can _feel_ the warmth of the other and fumbles his way under the edge of the man’s blanket just below his hand. It’s slow going, but eventually Tobirama burrows his way between the solid, thick arm and the man’s side. The weight from the arm keeps the blanket from exposing him, and he turns to press the long line of his back against the man as he curls up, content.

A happy noise escapes him and he pauses, twisting his ears to catch the little sigh that escapes the man, but there's no motion, so Tobirama relaxes again, luxuriating in the surrounding warmth. His hands knead where the blanket is caught underneath a strong, heavy arm and he quietly purrs himself to sleep.

Hashirama is woken when there is movement. He remains lax and affects sleep with years of practice, one ear perking to track the rustle of fabric. The kitten, cool and sinuous and far too thin, tucks himself up against his belly, and Hashirama smiles softly to himself. _Typical cat_.

* * *

He wakes with the dawn, a curse of years of habit, and looks down at the kitten curled up against his belly. The boys' ears and fingers twitch in his sleep. It's peaceful, _domestic_ , everything that a life as a ronin is not. It unsettles him, and Hashirama rolls softly out of bed and tidies the panels of his yukata.

Hashirama goes through his morning led by habit. Stretches, ablutions, wash up, change clothes; all familiar and smooth actions that culminate in him wandering out for breakfast. He's already looking forward to the food...and everything else.

The little rabbit is kind enough to have everything plated and portioned for him and the kitten. He eats, and picks up the boy’s food with a promise to return. The kitten has rolled into his warm spot when he enters with food, and doesn't do much more than twitch when he sets the tray down with the intention of feeding him later. _After a little fun, she's such a friendly rabbit and it would be a shame to leave her unsatisfied_.

She's just as eager to see him, and Hashirama ducks after her into a smaller room and slips the door closed. She's already pressing herself against him when he turns back to her, soft belly rubbing over his half hard cock. She smells _delicious_ , like fresh flower tea and a warm irori.

He chuckles, backing her up against a lidded usu and settling her down on it. For a moment she looks at his cock where it tents his yukata, but he makes a noise of disagreement. Instead he urges her onto her belly and rucks up her kimono.

"Mmm you look so sweet," he whispers to her, soft and sensual as he dips his head to taste, parting her folds with a slow swipe of his tongue. She's already wet, and he licks the smears of her arousal from her thighs.

The rabbit doe makes a soft noise, a hitched gasp that makes his cock twitch, and turns to muffle herself with a soft lop ear. She looks at him over her shoulder, cast in soft light by the shoji, and lifts her ass for him with an eager arch of her back.

"Such a sweet rabbit, already hot and wet." Hashirama allows the words to cool her cunt and ruffle her tail, grips her ass in his hands and lifts her to meet his lips. He kisses her folds, soft and swollen plump with her desire. Her clit is gripped by his lips, and he suckles it firmly, pinching with his teeth and flicking it with his tongue.

Her first orgasm washes over the tip of his nose and drips down his chin, and her full lips part as her lashes flutter.

By the time she's delirious with her eighth, pushed into consecutive orgasms by his fingers in her cunt and his tongue on her asshole, the door slips open a wedge. He sees the kitten framed in sunshine just over her shoulder, and drives her over a final time with a twist of his fingers and a soft nip to her pucker.

He leaves her there to collect herself; stands and wipes his chin, licks off his fingers. He ushers the curious little cat away before she sees their accidental voyeur.

Tobirama wakes up to the scent of food and a warm and not achy body at all. Perhaps that's what makes him slow to wake up. But the scent of food is very enticing, and so he pulls the blanket tighter around him as he sits up to find the source.

The tray is sitting _right there_ and the man isn't around at all, so Tobirama scurries over and nabs the little pieces quickly, shoveling it all into his mouth with two fast hands. Tobirama putters around the room, looking at the things in different arrays of colors now that the sun is out. The only sound is the sound of the blanket dragging against the tatami.

The little bowl with the tiny tree is still tempting, and Tobirama gives in and taps it just a _little_ bit closer to the edge. Not overly much. Just a bit.

Satisfied, Tobirama turns and scents the air. The man's smell is faint, but Tobirama doesn't know where he went off to. Did he leave Tobirama? Is this where he'll be staying now? Tobirama rifles through the small pack to find some cloth that smells strongly of the man and sniffs it to ingrain the smell into his palate.

Then he opens the door slowly, alert to any sounds and once confirming there aren't any people, he slips out and follows the scent of the man.

It leads to a closed door, and the sounds coming from behind the door make his ears stand up and forward. The door doesn't _seem_ locked, so he nudges it a bit and strains his ears to make sure he's still undetected before nudging it a little bit more so he can peek in.

He sees the same bunny that gave them food yesterday, on her belly with her head thrown back and eyes closed. The man is doing _something_ to her from where he's kneeling behind her, underneath her kimono and face below her tail. The bunny cries out suddenly and drops her head into her arms.

Tobirama watches as the man stands up and his face is wet and so are his fingers and he's _licking it off_ —

Before Tobirama can even ask the man what he was doing, or what's on his face, he's being crowded away from the door and he backs up, nearly tripping over his clothing. He tilts his head as he's shuffled back into the room.

He pointedly looks away when the man finds the food tray and instead busies himself with scratching his ears and using his hands to clean the rest of the food off of his face. The sharp pain in his mouth happens again and he tenses with a little squeak.

Suddenly large hands are gripping him and he's pulled against his will towards a broad chest.

"No!" Tobirama struggles as he's made to open his mouth with a strong grip to his jaw.

His head is turned this way and that as the man looks inside his mouth and moves his tongue out of the way. Tobirama wants to bite down, wants to get the man to _stop_ because he's hurting now. He whines and growls the best he can, especially when a finger hits the bad spot in his mouth and causes pain to crackle down his jaw.

"Mmm, thought so," he mutters to himself. The tooth is loose, and the gum is red and swollen. Hashirama can smell the scent of sickness, and he will have to do something before it has the opportunity to poison the kitten's blood. He digs out his pliers.

Holding the boy's mouth open is easy, and Hashirama turns a deaf ear to the mews of pain and growls of anger. The tooth is easy to grip, a premolar just a little behind a milk tooth canine. It comes out with a sharp yank, and he's quick to staunch the bleeding with his obi.

"There we go, all better. You're lucky the rot didn't get any worse and that these aren't your adult teeth." He shows the kitten his tooth, a hole in the center that is black and festering and the blood that is dark and ill looking. The kitten doesn't look convinced.

Hashirama drops the tooth in the boy's hand and dresses for the day, turning a blind eye to the clear sulking that he's being subjected to.

"Come." He doesn’t check, doesn't wait for the boy. Hashirama pays for their stay, gives the frazzled cook one last toe curling kiss, and saddles up. The kitten stares forlornly up at him, and Hashirama lifts him into the saddle by his collar.

They leave as the sun crests the hill, and he ties off Genma’s reins and takes out a book of winter poetry, sword hand at the ready and ears alert just in case.

* * *

Tobirama pouts as he sits on the horse that's much, much taller than him, in front of a man that's _also_ much, much taller than him. His little tooth is still securely in his tight fist, and his tongue keeps worrying the place inside his mouth where it once was.

It feels...better now, Tobirama supposes. The man hasn't hurt him much, well, not in the way the villagers did, and he even gets lots and lots of food! So of course he's going to travel with the man.

His hips and legs hurt from sitting on the horse so long yesterday, so today he pulls them up, tucks them to his chest and wraps his tail around his ankles. It's less stable, like this, but the man's arms are around him, one of those books with scribbles in front of him.

The man starts speaking and Tobirama feels the words rumble through the large chest behind him. It's nice, and Tobirama pitches his purrs to match, absently watching those long fingers turn the pages. After a time, Tobirama reaches out to trace one of the prettier scribbles.

His action causes the man to pause, cutting off the enjoyable rumble, and Tobirama tilts his head back and back and back until his ears are touching the man's chest and he can meet the man's eyes, upside-down given his position.

"Mmmm—Tobirrrama," he starts, before shyly gesturing to himself. "Tobirama."

Hashirama’s ears come up and forward with surprise at the shy introduction. His sword hand comes up automatically to scratch under the kitten’s chin before he thinks the better of it and gestures to himself instead.

"Hashirama," he rumbles, "Senju Hashirama."

Then he introduces Tobirama to his sword. "Mokuryu," he breathes as the sword slips slowly from its ironwood scabbard. He shows Tobirama the embossed kanju, hammered sharp and clean by his own hand. Finally he introduces Genma, who snorts at the sound of his name and startles the poor kitten. Tobirama glares at him for laughing.

"You will take my Clan name," he tells Tobirama when they stop to rest and relieve themselves. "Senju."

When they stop again to make camp among the bamboo he feeds Tobirama roasted pheasant, and the kitten submits to him with the haughty manner all cats have as though he hadn't tried to steal meat off the fire only to get chopsticks over his knuckles.

When it's time to sleep, Hashirama lifts open his bed roll and crooks a finger. Tobirama slinks in, appearing for all the world to be most put upon.

Tobirama doesn’t like that Hashirama attempts to get him to talk so much. He doesn’t know many words and knows he’s not good at pronouncing things. Nor does he like that Hashirama’s touches don’t seem to spark the same sort of alert, defense as any other touch did before. Hair getting ruffled, his chin and ears getting scratched, getting pulled close and _held_ close during the nights they lay out on the ground.

They keep going, and Tobirama has attempted to sit on the horse literally every way imaginable, but simply winds up back to either sitting normally, or with his legs tucked up. His hips are _sore_ and between his legs is even more sore. When he first wobbled off the horse only to plop down with a whine, he refused to look at Hashirama, who _chuckled_ at him and asked if he needed any help. 

As soon as Hashirama’s back was turned he flexed his leg up and stretched down to lick the areas, unsure of whether or not that would help soothe the pain. When the sting of his tongue didn’t fade to a reasonable ache, and he heard Hashirama returning from collecting firewood, he begrudgingly stopped.

He’s not sure how Hashirama isn’t hurting as well.

Despite how tempting the food looks over the fire, Tobirama simply sits and lashes his tail where it’s wound around his legs. He’s not _pouting_ , but the backs of his hands are bright red and he’s been licking them to soothe the sting of lightning-quick ‘chopsticks’ that have hit them several times these past few days.

But Hashirama tells him that they should be arriving in a village just as the sun sets, and so Tobirama only gives a token look of disapproval before he relaxes and lifts his hands to be helped onto the horse. A village meant that they’d have less time to spend on Genma.

* * *

Tobirama turns his nose up to scent the breeze as they exit the thick of the forest and his mouth opens as he looks out onto where there’s so much water, glistening with the colors of the sun setting.

“We go there?” Tobirama asks, his tail alternating between a questioning curl and an excited point.

A stronger breeze blows by and Genma snorts as Tobirama shakes his head as his shorter, now freely waving fur tickles the inside of his ears.

When Tobirama looks back up at Hashirama, he simply smiles at him and Tobirama gives a small one back.

The wind dies down just a bit when they reach the first of the little houses and Tobirama’s nose twitches as the scent of _fish_ is strong. And not a moment later his gaze locks onto rows upon rows of fish laid out on racks, all just unattended. Simply _right there_.

Hashirama rumbles behind him and his ears flatten, but otherwise he doesn’t stop cataloging all of the various shapes and sizes of fish he’s never ever _seen_ before but with smells that make his mouth water.

His head jerks forward from the large hand on the back of it and Tobirama growls and pushes his head back despite the twinge in his neck. The pressure suddenly disappears and his head goes flying back into Hashirama’s hard chest and he crosses his arms, giving the fish one last, longing glance back.

Hashirama has missed the sea. Not just the water, but the _people_ , who are always a juxtaposition of hyperactive and lazy. They mill about aimlessly, but there is a certain hidden purpose to them, a watchful eye cast to the sea.

Tobirama stares longingly at the stalls, and Hashirama has to turn him away a few times when it becomes obvious he's debating theft. Still, he is...cute; far more open with his instincts, honest and sharp in a way that Hashirama finds endearing but knows full well will be quick to ruffle people's feathers.

When Tobirama turns in the saddle to watch an enormous tuna go by, Hashirama's book thumps against his head. "No, kitten. An inn first, and if you're _good_ then I'll take you for sushi on the beach."

The inn is where he remembers from his days as Butsuma-sama's wakashu, a squat building that extends out onto the beach of thick stilts. The stable boy looks a tad nervous, and Hashirama pats Genma to hopefully discourage him from eating the boy's hair. He lifts his little stray and sets him down, tucking him close under his cloak and away from the sea wind.

The innkeeper is the same shark, almost of a height with Hashirama with blown black eyes and a mouth full of jagged teeth. "Ah! Little knobbly horned stag! It's been so long! Not so little now, are we?"

They clasp hands, and the shark grins down at the little face peeking out of the folds of his cloak and chuckles. "The cycle continues, I see. You'll be wanting the one room, yes?"

Hashirama nods, reaching down to rub the base of pressed back ears.

The room is familiar, and he draws in a deep breath, nose seeking the scent of fresh hay and neroli. It's long gone, but he takes the time to close his eyes anyway, one hand resting on the shoji. The ghost of fingers trailing down his chest.

A shuffle under his coat, and Hashirama opens one eye to smile softly at the kitten. He sets the bags down, all at once too hot with memories of a thick cocklet and the heat of a forbidden cunt on his cock lighting a restless fire in his belly.

"Come, let's get some food."

* * *

The evening market is busy with the dinner rush and swamped with the scent of cooking fish and salt, enticing. He leads them to a stall down on the dock, a sushi bar half hidden between two shops. The chef is an old albatross, feathers almost white with age, one eye clouded with cataracts.

"Warm sake and the chef's choice, please. And a platter of sashimi."

He pulls Tobirama up onto his lap, rumbling with approval as the kitten makes no move for the food. Hashirama gives him a pair of chopsticks, guides his fingers into the proper grip, and shows him how to savour each slice of salmon, tuna, octopus and eel.

He gives the boy some sake to taste, chuckling at the way his face wrinkles with disgust.

Once they've eaten it's back out onto the streets. Hashirama follows the red glow to the pleasure sector, eyes roving the wears on display. The ladies reach for them, and he tastes a few lips, smearing lipstick on his own.

A tail catches his eye, bushy and white, and Hashirama trails it up. An ermine, male and slender with a beautiful full winter coat stands out starkly against the deep blue kimono. Hashirama’s ears perk straight up as he zeros in on the young man.

"Hello," he purrs, low and sultry, extending a hand to comb through the fluffy fringe of feathery black hair.

The boy's name is Izuna, and he's barely taller than Hashirama’s sternum. They trade introductory kisses, and Hashirama leads the three of them to the baths when they return.

The weasel is quick to join him in his washing, soaping up his back and squeaking with surprise when his hand brushes Hashirama’s erect member. To his credit he doesn't shy away, seems to brace himself instead, eyes wide when he catches sight of the weight of Hashirama’s manhood.

"No," he says when Izuna makes to kneel, and there's a glint of confused trepidation. Hashirama only smiles knowingly and carries the boy into a half-sunken wooden tub.

One ear tracks Tobirama, who washes hurriedly but sticks a disbelieving foot in the water, nose wrinkled, and only settles down a little ways away after a few moments, which Izuna spends tying their hair.

Hashirama's hands are already busy under the water, tracing the weasel's thighs and skirting his small cock. The beta is slender, lean, flexible. Not perfect, but Hashirama _needs_ too much to care.

He works Izuna to the edge four times, there and back again, fingers in his ass and mouth on his cock as the boy arches for him. Finally there are claws drawing stripes of blood on his shoulders, desperate hitched breaths, and it is time.

They leave Tobirama in the baths, the boy almost asleep in the water for all he was so skeptical earlier, and stumble half clothed to the room, drunk with need.

Hashirama is quick to slick his fingers with oil, and Izuna pauses in shock when he rolls onto his belly and works himself open frantically with three fingers. Hashirama needs this— _has_ to have it, or he will go mad with the memory of touches long past.

"Are you—" Hashirama cuts him off with a growl, spreads his legs and props himself up on his forearms. An impatient flick of his still sodden tail, and Izuna is on him— _in him_ and he finally lets go.

There is no shame in him when Tobirama finds them like that. He bares his teeth with a deep snarl of pleasure as Izuna rams into his prostate, snaps at him when the thrusts stutter and moans loud and wanton when they pick up.

He manages to get the weasel to grab his antlers, and two more hard thrusts is all it takes for him to peak with a muted bellow. Face tipped up to stare blank eyed at familiar patterns on the ceiling, he drags the boy into rapture with him, mind overshadowing the high cries with a familiar howl.

He pays Izuna well, and the boy doesn't linger. It is Hashirama who languishes on the clean sheets, yukata set outside to be washed, sticky with his load.

He buries his face down against the thickness of his forearms and meets Tobirama's shocked, wide eyed gaze.

"I came here with my sensei as a buck," is all the explanation he offers.

The whole day has been rather strange for Tobirama. Being around so many people who don’t sneer at him, or throw rocks at him, or chase him away is...nice. _Pleasant_ , even.

Tobirama even followed what Hashirama wanted him to do! Well, mostly. The chopsticks were the hardest part of the day, but Tobirama saw Hashirama’s smile despite how many times his hold needed to be adjusted.

And the bath was just perfect for Tobirama’s aching muscles, nice and warm and relaxing.

Now, all alone with Hashirama, he questions. Hashirama had a sensei? Does that mean, Hashirama is _his_ sensei? But the question falls to the wayside as he chews his lip, his mind filled with a different, more important question.

“Man?” Tobirama looks towards the door where the taller, thin and sharp-looking man left, and then back to Hashirama, who’s returned to laying on his stomach.

“Not...lady?” His head tilts as he uncurls his legs and tail to crawl forwards to be a little closer to Hashirama.

Hashirama’s scent is heavy in the room, and makes something grow warm inside of him. It isn’t that he’s _never_ seen people play like Hashirama just did with the weasel—he’s snuck into many houses easily when _those_ sounds of playing occur—but more, those who smell similar to Hashirama, he’s never seen _like that_. Below.

Hashirama sighs and Tobirama watches the muscles all bunch up and release. Tobirama blinks owlishly when Hashirama stares at him. His tail curls up in question as he tilts his head. Perhaps Hashirama doesn’t understand his question.

Tobirama searches for the right words to describe his question.

“Smell? Man smell not like ladies. Hashirama smell not like man.” There’s not much more he can do, if Hashirama still doesn’t understand. Tobirama isn’t even sure that Hashirama can smell like he can! His ears and tail twitch with his whirlwind of thoughts.

Slowly, he reaches one of his tiny hands and pats Hashirama’s nose, before bringing his hand to pat his own nose.

“Smell same? _Mmmmrr_ —nose same?”

Hashirama blinks slowly, one ear slowly angling forward in confusion. It takes him a minute to parse out what Tobirama is is saying, but—

"Oh!" He exclaims, startling the kitten as he rolls onto his side to prop his head up on one fist. "Why did I sleep with a beta this time? And why a man, when I'm an alpha? Why did I let him take me on my belly?"

 _I really have to teach this boy more words_ , he grumbles to himself. Even if Tobirama is likely only a beta, he will need to know how the world of sexes works. Hashirama parts his legs, and waves a hand down at his cock and balls, still half hard tense against his body respectively.

"That makes me a man, women have something else. Izuna is also a man. I'm an alpha, which means I go into rut once every end of the season and have a heightened sex drive. Izuna is a beta, and doesn't go into rut like me. The lady bunny was an omega, but she goes into heat once a month, so she can have babies that an alpha or beta man can put in her."

He pauses to make sure Tobirama doesn't have questions just yet, before continuing.

"Most alphas like being on top; it makes our instincts, or animal side, happy. Sometimes, though, some of us like to be at the bottom too. It feels very good, and there's a special spot inside there that we have that feels _really_ good. My sensei showed me."

Hashirama grins at the kitten, and touches their noses.

"Smell same scents, but my nose is better. Smells better, because I'm an adult and I need to understand more."

He doesn’t say anything about male omegas, he doesn't want to confuse the kitten. _It's highly unlikely he is one, anyway_ , he thinks. Butsuma was the only male omega he ever met, and went to great lengths to hide it.

Tobirama struggles to keep up with all the different, new words Hashirama was using. He goes a little cross-eyed watching Hashirama come closer to touch their noses together. He scrunches his nose up before blinking and looking back down.

He scoots closer and tilts his head because it definitely _looks_ different from what he has; and Hashirama said that all men have that. He stares harder as his tail flicks, agitated. The long flesh twitches and Tobirama skitters away and across the room, leaving Hashirama to fill the space with a booming laugh.

Tobirama glares.

Hashriama winks at him.

He then turns his head and closes his eyes, only twitching his ears to hear the sound of Hashirama moving around. Once the sounds stop, Tobirama takes a peek out of the corner of his eye to see Hashirama propped up. His ears perk up but otherwise he stays where he is, _especially_ because Hashirama patted the bed.

But then Hashirama does this, this _rubbing_ thing with his fingers and Tobirama is trilling as he crawls across the floor to sniff at them before he knows it. And then he starts purring when Hashirama's fingers rub his ears. He supposes if he's already over here, he'll steal Hashirama's heat as well. So he curls up against Hashirama's hip, his head leaning against his side and feet and tail tucked up.

Hashirama has his little book out again, with all the scribbles. But since the hand on his head hasn't stopped moving, Tobirama supposes he'll purr along with the rumble of Hashirama's voice. His hands find purchase on the soft _yukata_ that Hashirama's wearing, and he kneads the fabric, long nails staying inside their sheathes. _That_ was a lesson that only took once for Tobirama to take to heart.

He does dig his claws in when Hashirama shifts, threatening to dislodge him. It gets him a small _tsk_ , and a reassurance that Hashirama's just moving around to lay down. Tobirama unhappily waits with his eyes closed for Hashirama to finish whatever else he needs to do before bed.

* * *

Waking up after only sleeping for a few hours is a hard habit to break after years of doing just that. What makes this very early, gray morning perfect for Tobirama, is that he wakes up before Hashirama. His head is pillowed on a great warm arm, and Hashirama has pulled him even closer into his side during the night.

Tobirama blinks a few times when he finally notices the sensation of something hard poking his back. He reaches back underneath the covers and feels the long, pokey thing. _Ah_ , he realizes after a few minutes of patting and grabbing the thing to get a sense of what it is, _it's Hashirama_.

He stills his hand on top of it and thinks. The allure is much too strong and he shifts in small, tiny increments to keep Hashirama asleep and, with one last look up at Hashirama's face to make sure he's asleep, ducks his head under the blanket.

Hashirama's yukata has slipped, having not been tied very tight in the first place, and has exposed the skin of his chest and stomach. Tobirama shuffles a bit and flips some of the fabric out of the way to take another look.

It's even bigger now than he last got a look, and he tilts his head as he runs his hand down the length. More shuffling and he's half leaning over Hashirama's hip to peek lower, towards the large attached balls on the underside.

That _Izuna_ also had them. And Hashirama said earlier that all men had them. Does that mean Tobirama isn't a man?

Tobirama pokes one and startles when Hashirama shifts, his legs opening _wider_ and he pauses to listen. There's no more sounds other than the slow, even breaths, so he continues. They jiggle, a little bit, and feel soft.

The sensation of wetness on his other hand makes him flinch back and flick his hand. When the sticky sensation doesn't come off his hand, he begrudgingly brings it up to his mouth to lick off. On the second lick the taste finally hits him, and he makes a face at the weird mixture of salty and slightly sweet. It smells heavily of _Hashirama_.

He shuffles so he can look at the tip of Hashirama, and notices the clear, sticky liquid coming out of it.

Another pause as Tobirama flicks his tail. It's not like it was a _bad_ taste and besides, Hashirama is still asleep. Logic sound enough to satisfy his curiosity, Tobirama leans further over Hashirama to lap at the sticky fluid. The heavy flesh hits his nose as it jerks slightly, and Tobirama's tail fluffs out in surprise.

A hand smacks lightly across his butt, which is sticking outside the covers, and Tobirama _yowls_ , pushing away and nearly taking the entire blanket with him as he bolts across the room.

A snort of laughter and Tobirama glares over his shoulder as his hands cover his butt. The large sleeves of one of Hashirama's yukatas he's wearing have unrolled in his haste across the room, and fall over his hands. Even the front of it isn't spared, and the fabric slips down the shoulder he's glaring over.

The tip of Tobirama's tail twitches back and forth to show his unhappiness.

Hashirama simply looks at him with an amused smile.

"Fish." Tobirama demands as he rubs his backside a few times to stop the sting. "Big fish. Tuna! Tuna, eat."

When he finally looks back at Hashirama, who hasn't said anything, Tobirama pouts. He doesn't _want_ to attempt a "proper" sentence. Turning to face Hashirama, he growls a little and re-wraps the yukata around himself, tying a knot to close it and uncaring the loops his messy attempt left.

"Please we have tuna for—mmmm— _breakfast_. For breakfast?"

 _That_ response gets him a large grin, and Tobirama gives a small smile back.

Hashirama wakes the second something smacks against his cock, slightly painful as it is. He doesn’t discourage the boy, Tobirama is getting older and he will have to learn in any case. So he lets the kitten explore; look and touch and _taste_.

Eventually Hashirama can't deny himself his own fun. The way Tobirama’s shorn tail sticks straight out and fluffs like a prickly uni is far too precious. His backside sticks out past the covers, and Hashirama can just see the very tip of the boy's cock, still small before puberty and his first rut, beyond. The light smack is all in good fun, and the sight of his blanket darting across the room is certainly worth the glare he receives.

The kitten is wonderfully indignant when he asks Hashirama for food, rubbing his ass and pouting. Hashirama grins at him, nodding. "Yes, kitten. We _can_ have tuna for breakfast. Expensive little thing, aren't you. At least you don't want salmon."

He gets up to tend his needs and drags the kitten in to wash his hair, rewards his half-hearted struggles with gentle ear petting and a slow massage of his shoulders. His efforts earn him a soft purr, and Hashirama dries and dresses his stray before he washes his own body and long hair.

Hashirama takes Tobirama to buy the boy a few changes of clothes before they wander into an out of the way tea garden. He insists the boy has rice, miso and greens first, but does ultimately deliver on his promise; they share slices of tuna.

Tobirama makes sure to butt his head against Hashirama’s chin gently in thanks when he gets pulled into that large lap, as is customary for mealtimes now. He trills when the _tuna_ comes out, all richly red and fatty and mouth watering.Tobirama even picks up his chopsticks all by himself when the food is set on the table, but his wrist gets caught when he goes to pick up some of that delicious tuna.

Tobirama growls a little, but pulls his hand back, lets Hashirama tug the chopsticks from his hands and press them together between his own. He knows what to say now.

“Ichadakimasu.” Tobirama sullenly intones along with Hashirama.

Hashirama laughs and simply repeats himself: “I-TA-dakimasu.”

His ears flick back, irritated, when Hashirama doesn’t release his hands. Tugging does _nothing_ and so, with a whine, Tobirama attempts again.

“Itadakimasu.”

That gets him the Hum of Approval and therefore he’s not stopped as he grabs his chopsticks again. The new yukata that he has on doesn’t need the sleeves rolled up, but he still carefully reaches over the food with his free hand holding the sleeve.

He’s redirected towards the rice, and miso, and _greens_. Tobirama grumbles and quickly stuffs the required food to get permission to eat the tuna down his throat. Tobirama takes a little longer to eat the miso, not only because it’s hot, but because this miso has _clams_ in it. Which still aren’t as good as tuna, but still good.

When he’s finally, finally allowed a slice of tuna, he trills and purrs. Tuna is definitely his favorite. Hashirama moves the little dish of brown liquid towards him and Tobirama leans away. The huff tickles his ears, but the dish gets set back onto the table. Curious, Tobirama reaches out a finger.

Just as he’s about to touch the liquid, his hand gets slapped and he pulls it back with a hiss. There’s another stare-down as Tobirama glares at Hashirama who simply looks back at him. Then Tobirama frowns and goes back to eating his tuna.

There’s a few slices left, and Tobirama eyes the _soy sauce_ with suspicion before stabilizing his wrist with his other hand to carefully dunk only a tiny corner of the fish into the liquid. His ears perk up at the taste.

He didn’t realize the tuna could taste _even better_.

The last couple slices get coated in soy sauce and Tobirama purrs happily. His happy purrs continue until it’s apparent that they’re heading towards Genma.

Then, Tobirama sends his most soulful, pitiful look up at Hashirama. He doesn’t _want_ to leave the town. There’s so many good things here! Like Tuna!

But he still steps closer and raises his arms so Hashirama can lift him onto the horse. At least he got nearly a full day off the horse.

A gentle hand ruffles his hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casual reminder about the additional relationship tags

Hashirama takes them along the road up into river country. Tobirama doesn’t like the water, doesn't like the tall whispering grasses that move with the wind like hair to carding fingers. Hashirama can't blame him; it gives the eye the impression of moving bodies where there are none, like ghosts among the reeds.

Thankfully there is but one more strait to cross, and Hashirama lets Genma swim them both through the water. Tobirama seems to hate this, obvious in the way he climbs further and further up onto Hashirama’s shoulders. The kitten grasps one heavy antler, bone as thick as the boy's wrist.

It pops off, and Hashirama splashes down into the river with an exaggerated wail, clutching at his head. He lets himself wash up on the shore as Genma continues on, listening. Tobirama had managed to jump back onto the saddle when Hashirama fell, _perhaps he will make a good student in more than name_.

A splash, and Hashirama peeks to see the kitten paddling furiously towards him, lips curled in a snarl around his antler and nose wrinkled adorably. He has to stop himself from smiling.

The boy tries fruitlessly to reattach the enormous piece of bone while Hashirama holds his breath. Tobirama turns frantic, alarmed mews escaping lips bitten temptingly. Finally the boy is almost inconsolable, and Hashirama breaks, tackling him back onto the shore and meeting him with a kiss, soft and warm.

"Hush, kitten. I'm only playing, it doesn't hurt. They're supposed to fall off, it's time. Hopefully the other will come off soon, so I'll not look so foolish for too long."

Tobirama blinks when his center of balance is thrown sideways and lips touch his own briefly. He barely has any time to think about the obvious deception Hashirama played on him because something warm drops in his stomach. Hashirama doesn’t move, so Tobirama wriggles until he winds up on his stomach, and then he simply crawls out from under Hashirama, the warm feeling heating up the back of his neck as well.

It’s only after he’s crawled a little bit away that he notices…

He plops down right there on the shore of the river and shakes the water out of his hair and off his ears before flicking his tail. His _cock_ is throbbing and feels weird, but he doesn’t want Hashirama to see it like _this_. Even his face feels warm!

But instead of turning around as he normally does when Hashirama plays a trick on him, he stares at him. Just to make sure he can’t sneak up and see. He also makes no move to get out of his wet clothes, simply watches as Hashirama easily shrugs his clothing off and wrings out the water. The water reflects light as it runs down Hashirama’s chest and lower—

Tobirama’s face feels hot again.

Shivering, Tobirama hunches over himself a little more when Hashirama comes closer and he’s almost thankful for the cold to have made his problem mostly go away. Hot hands, despite just being in the colder water, lift him easily and start peeling away his clothing.

“No!” Tobirama yowls and nearly hurts his arm as he attempts to keep his _problem_ a secret. Thankfully, however, his tail tucks quickly between his legs while his arms are caught in all the wet fabric.

Hashirama sighs behind him, and Tobirama thinks it might be due to the fact he’s _lost_ his fundoshi...again. Then Hashirama whistles and Genma comes walking up to them and Tobirama’s tail attempts to bush out, despite being soaked through. Braving the horse, he waddles his way towards where Hashirama is pulling off his pack, still thankfully dry. It’s cold enough, and Hashirama is taking long enough, that Tobirama takes another few steps and wraps himself around a strong, warm leg. The warm feeling comes back quickly, and Tobirama’s tail twitches against Hashirama’s leg.

The heat of Hashirama’s leg feels nice, and Tobirama doesn’t want to move until he absolutely _has_ to, so he chooses to ignore how his cock throbs and stands up. If he ignores it long enough, hopefully it will go away. And with his tail covering it, it’s unlikely that Hashirama can feel it against him anyways.

The towel is nice and dry, and Tobirama turns away from Hashirama to dry himself quickly, and does even offer up a token protest when Hashirama hands him what probably is the last fundoshi Tobirama hasn’t lost yet.

Perhaps he’ll keep it, this time around.

They catch some fish there on the bank, with a fire to cook and warm up at. Tobirama splays out on his side with his belly towards the fire as Hashirama cooks the fish. They aren’t nearly as delicious as tuna, but food is food, so Tobirama eats with only a small pout.

Full and warm, Tobirama falls into a light doze.

Only to be woken up when Hashirama scoops him up, one hand supporting his back, the other under his legs. Tobirama sleepily whines at the movement, which gets him a kiss to his forehead before he gets placed on Genma. Hashirama smoothly comes up right behind him, and Tobirama shuffles a bit in the saddle, settling himself immediately further into Hashirama and falling quickly back to sleep.

It's an honour to be a part of another's sexual awakening. Hashirama wants to _talk_ about the slender little cock pressed against his leg, wants to show Tobirama the world of pleasure that is encompassed in the space between two bodies—but not yet.

His kitten is too shy, too unaccustomed to positive physical touch, and the last thing he wants to do is drive the boy away or embarrass him into shame and hiding. That certainly wouldn't do; if Tobirama presents as an alpha then he will need to be comfortable enough to assert himself during his rut, and if he's a beta then a healthy sex life certainly won't hurt. If he's interested. Hashirama knows he's a little...hypersexual.

He also knows he's not exactly the most approachable person when it comes to seeking a partner; his size is a little 'intimidating'. He's seen how people cross their legs and grimace at the thought of sex with him, and Hashirama is well accustomed to offering other pleasures instead. He has, in fact, only had two bedmates that didn't shy away from his cock.

Not to mention that Tobirama is still physically much too small to consider him even a potential partner.

Hashirama sighs and runs a hand through the boy's hair, smiling softly to himself when the boy doesn't so much as twitch. _Now if only he'd stop 'losing' his underwear_.

* * *

The city of Nobura is as he remembers it, if a little louder and a lot more crowded. The massive fortress that clings to the cliff above the sea, the buildings that both block and tunnel the cold ocean wind and the smell of a thousand meals cooking. Thankfully the gutters are cleaned by the wash of the tide channeled up through tunnels below the city.

Tobirama is awake and alert, ensconced safely in Hashirama’s cloak. He keeps the kitten close, away from prying eyes both obvious and hidden. There are other samurai and guardsmen out and about, and Hashirama is all too familiar with the shift of roof shadows that signify shinobi. Hashirama doesn't like shinobi, the hidden claws of those in power.

He's glad his other antler has dropped. Not only does he look somewhat less silly like this, but he also stands out just a little less. Hashirama had meant to just leave them in the forest somewhere, but...these are his first dropped pair since he became something like a father. Call him sentimental, but he would like to keep them. They would also make the perfect raw materials for Tobirama's first weapons.

He brings them to an old inn in a nicer area of town, worn by mist and rain and warm with fond memories. A cat greets them at the door, a slender, striped thing that trots next to them. The owner looks just like her pet, a graying molly with a slim tail.

Hashirama arranges for a week's stay, smiling when Tobirama vibrates with excitement next to him.

Tobirama feels like if he blinks, he'll miss something. Hashirama has brought them someplace _loud_ and there's just so many people. He's very thankful to have been safely covered almost completely by Hashirama's coat. Even still, he felt like he was being watched, in a way that he never has before.

At the inn Tobirama perks up at the cat, trilling at it while it eyes him through similar slit-eyes. And then Tobirama blinks up when they reach the desk. The lady's eyes meet his and he instinctually shrinks back a bit as he's obviously looked-over. She makes a strange, purring chirp that makes Tobirama relax and tilt his head, confused. He's never heard _that_ kind of sound before. There were no other cat-hybrids in his old village.

A few seconds pass and then she gets this pinched, confused look to her face, but sets something on the counter.

"For you, little kit."

Tobirama is curious, but he's also very confused still, so he looks up at Hashirama, and after a nod, he reaches out to snatch the small, colorful little things. He turns them over in his hands, noting how they're hard and small, spikey balls.

"And what do you say?"

"Mmmmmrr," Tobirama rumbles as Hashirama grips his shoulder to get his attention again. "Thank you."

The lady chuckles and then speaks to Hashirama again. Tobirama _still_ hasn't figured out what he's holding, and absently trails after Hashirama as he sniffs at it. Finally, Tobirama decides to lick one, and immediately chirps out a surprised noise and finishes putting the small _sweet_ in his mouth.

"Konpeito are good, are they not?"

"Konnnnpeito?" Tobirama attempts to say while rolling the one in his mouth around.

Hashirama smiles and puts his pack in a secure corner. Tobirama crunches down on the one in his mouth and purrs. He's never had something this sweet before! Looking down at his palm, he sees he only has a couple left. They're _good_ , and Hashirama hasn't made him share, and it would be so easy just to eat them both but…

It takes a few moments of standing there, staring at the little sweets in his hand—the _konpeito_ —before he makes his mind up. Hashirama lifts an eyebrow at his approach, but Tobirama holds out his hand and points to one of the sweets.

"Like _konpeito_? For you"—Tobirama then points to the other sweet—"For me."

Despite telling Hashirama that it is _okay_ to take a sweet, he still watches very, very closely as big fingers take only what he pointed at. There's a big grin on Hashirama's face as he pops the sweet into his mouth and Tobirama follows his example.

The hand ruffles his hair and Tobirama presses up into the touch.

"Is bath time? _Hot_ water bath? Then food?"

"Yes," Hashirama chuckles, gently digging fingers in to scratch, "a bath and food will do us both good."

It does do them both good, and Hashirama is glad that the tub is conveniently a little small when he settles in it. It means Tobirama sits almost cuddled up against his side, arms crossed and head carefully _not_ resting on Hashirama’s bicep.

He sees the kitten looking at him out of the corner of his eye, sees Tobirama’s gaze flick down to his lips time and time again. Hashirama makes no mention of it, or even any indication that he's noticed, patting instead at his antler stubs and grinning at the novelty.

His patience pays off that night when he feels Tobirama straddle his chest and kiss him. It's a brief meeting of lips, light and shy, before he retreats. Another kiss, a little more lingering, reveals a small, erect cock that is pressed against him.

Hashirama winds his arms around the boy's waist, holds firm when he wriggles and rolls them over. His voice is husky with sleep, a deep rumble that reverberates into the younger body pressed against the bed.

"Shall show you a proper kiss, curious kitten?" His lips brush teasingly over Tobirama’s and down his neck, and he purrs approvingly when little hips leap up in search of pressure.

His own cock is already hard, and it throbs when a breathless gasp ruffles his ear.

"Nnn!" Tobirama bites his lip to stop any more sounds from coming out as his body feels much, much too warm underneath Hashirama.

It's entirely useless to stop his hips from moving again when Hashirama lightly brushes his lips against his sensitive neck again. He's so curious, so, so incredibly curious. He isn't sure _how_ Hashirama was able to notice him when he was _sure_ the other wasn't paying attention, but he doesn't seem mad. Which gives Tobirama the strength to give a few shy nods, his hands gripping the loose fabric on the front of Hashirama's yukata.

Hashirama pulls back and Tobirama looks up at him, unable to keep his eyes from drifting back down to his lips. Lips that curl into a smile and then there's a thumb tugging his lower lip from between his teeth moments before they're kissed.

The kiss sends a bolt of warmth down him, as it had previously, and Tobirama leans into it as any other touch. He's rewarded with a rumble and a tongue tracing his lips. His whole body is on _fire_ but he opens his mouth on the second pass and tentatively sticks his own tongue out to meet Hashirama's larger one.

A hand yanks him up to press him closer. Tobirama mewls as he meets that hot chest with a few, clumsy thrusts of his hips. His noise seems to have sparked something inside Hashirama, because he groans and suddenly Tobirama's got a mouth full of hot tongue and he attempts to press back with his own.

He tilts his head away with a gasp, panting to catch his breath and whining when Hashirama's lips travel down his jaw and neck all the way to his exposed shoulder from where his own yukata had slipped when he was flipped.

"A-Again?" Tobirama doesn't even sound like himself, and his entire body feels tingly and nice and he would very much like another. "Prrroper kiss, please?"

He only gets another couple pants of breath in before Hashirama's lips are pressed against his own again.

Hashirama delights in devouring his little kitten, slipping a hand down to squeeze the boy's ass and aids his frantic humping, kissing him breathless and then moving down to suck purple marks along his collar bones.

Hashirama is also far more excited than he should be, hips rutting against the mattress in clumsy need, chest rumbling with deep growls of desire. Tobirama is responding so well, arching up against him, mewing, hips stuttering—

He drives his kitten onto rapture with a firm press, smiles at the open, gasping mewls he gets. He pulls away to admire the shivering little cat, the flush on his cheeks and the enormous pupils, the bitten lips and the leaping pulse.

Hashirama stills his own hips and takes Tobirama into a gentle lingering kiss and strokes his ears to bring him down gently. There is nothing more that he wants than to lick the boy clean and tuck him close.

Tobirama tiredly presses back into the soft kisses. He's purring and happy up until he realizes that there's _sticky_ between his legs. So he wriggles a bit and rubs Hashirama's jaw with his face as he goes onto the other futon. He's too happy and relaxed to care whether Hashirama sees or not, so he simply stretches his leg up and bends down to clean himself up.

Only a few licks in—and the taste isn't _too_ bad, like someone just added too much salt—and suddenly he's pulled back underneath Hashirama. He lets out an irritated half-growl half-whine but all token protest because Tobirama doesn't stop Hashirama when he bends his head lower and laps around his cock and...and a bit lower.

It feels different than what he just did, and he's not sure why Hashirama stopped. A couple fingers trace down his cock and especially around the base of it before trailing downwards, towards the parts Tobirama knows now that _men don't have_.

Suddenly he's unsure. Will Hashirama treat him any differently? Will he be asked to leave? Tobirama supposes that the city would offer him more than his old village ever would, but he's come to _like_ Hashirama. He then notices that he's whining, and bites his lip in an effort to stop and he turns his head away and buries it into the pillow.

He wants to close his legs, to pull them up and hide but Hashirama's there, keeping him from doing that.

"I see," is all he says, tracing the pink lips of Tobirama’s cunt from where it meets his cocklet, "a very special little kitten, hm, Tobirama? A beautiful male omega, a boy who is also a girl, who can carry little kittens onto this earth."

Hashirama kisses those folds reverently, licks up the spill of pleasure and sucks up the sticky threads. He groans, presses his nose to the source of maturing omega and grunts his own orgasm, hips hitching.

"Oh, I never thought I'd find someone like you again." Hashirama wants so badly to lick and suck and to _fuck_ , but he can tell Tobirama is tense and uncertain under him. He kisses the boy's belly with a sigh of longing.

"My sensei was an omega like you, a warrior and a wolf of brown and gold. Prized until he was feared."

Tobirama shivers as he's licked, eyes squeezing closed but ears perked and listening to every word Hashirama says. He twitches as Hashirama buries his nose between his legs.

And the kiss pressed to his belly starts him tentatively purring.

"Like me?" Tobirama whispers as he opens his eyes to look down at Hashirama.

Hashirama runs hot hands over his hips and sides before crawling back over him and placing another kiss over his lips, soft and Tobirama responds in kind. It doesn't last long, but Tobirama feels light, and his purrs grow stronger.

He gets rumbles from Hashirama in answer. Hashirama takes his yukata off before slipping back under the blanket and pulling him closer. He sets his head on Hashirama's chest, stretching so his neck lays flush against it and purring even louder as a hand comes up to rub his back.

Hashirama's belly _burns_ with desire. His cock is still hard, twitching and throbbing between his legs. There's nothing quite like an omega—a _male omega_ , to get his blood hot. Particularly with his autumn rut coming up soon, for which he will have to find somewhere safe for Tobirama to stay.

By the time he's certain the kitten is asleep his cock aches between his legs, the pointed tip an angry purple. He _needs_ to sate himself or Hashirama is convinced he will go mad. There's nothing for it; he gets up silently and makes for the red quarter. _I'll only be gone a few hours, back before the kitten awakes_.

* * *

Hashirama has no idea how many whores he's had by now. There is only one need to fuckfuck _fuck_ in his mind, and he throws his head back to bare his teeth and growl with it. The woman under him is panting with exertion, a beautiful pup with floppy brown ears and thick thighs.

There is another, sucking and stroking his cock, and Hashirama must have come over ten times in the last three hours and still he is not dry. Still his hind brain spurs him on with the want to _breed_. Tobirama swollen heavy, slim body lax with pleasure and satisfaction, breasts full to dripping with sweet milk—

He comes again, spattering his seed into the waiting mouth, and then over a plump belly when it moves away. He gives both of the ladies one last mind blowing orgasm before he takes his leave.

Sated sighs echo behind him from a pile of fucked out whores, the last in the line of brothels that he's visited tonight. Five hours, five whore houses; at least eight whores with three rounds each. And still the restlessness burns in his belly. 

Still his cock is hard; though his balls are thankfully emptied at last.

The kitten stirs when he returns, sits up and mrows at him irritably, tail twitching with agitation. Hashirama’s cock spits a line of pre-come to dribble down his leg.

"Ah, kitten. You're awake," he grins sheepishly.

"Am awake." Tobirama huffs as he glares up at Hashirama in the early morning light. 

His stomach grumbles a bit, and Tobirama's been spoiled with so much food recently that he's finally known what _not_ being hungry all the time feels like that he's even more irritated that he's being so affected by his stomach.

But he's reluctant to get out from under the warmth of the blankets, even for his stomach, and rolls over and pulls the blanket further up over his shoulders and head. Only the very tips of his ears peek out, twisting to catch any sound Hashirama makes as he falls back into a light snooze.

He mews in distress when Hashirama flops down next to him suddenly. He shivers as Hashirama's lips press against his ears. A breath tickles the hair inside and he twitches his ears away before shaking his head with a whine, bringing a hand up to rub at them.

Hashirama uses his moment of inattention to tug the blanket down to expose his face. Tobirama squints up at him with a pout.

"Sleep more? Please? Or is breakfast time?" Tobirama tilts his head. It doesn't _feel_ like breakfast time yet. But he will never say 'no' to food.

"Alright kitten, sleep more. It's not breakfast time quite yet."

Hashirama leans down to press an affectionate kiss to the kitten's forehead, shame a vice in his chest. It was unfair of him to give in to his instincts so easily, to drag Tobirama into his perverse needs. _The boy hasn't even had his first heat yet, Hashirama, and still you want him_.

He settles behind the kitten, tucks Tobirama up against his chest away from the traitorously persisting erection, and settles to have a nap of his own. He rumbles to meet Tobirama’s purring, tips one ear back to listen for movement at the door.

Hashirama knows he's drawn attention to himself with his...expedition last night. It means he'll be unable to do anything but wait for a summons. Hopefully he'll be able to keep Tobirama safe from the grasping politics by leaving him at the inn.

He brings the boy breakfast, miso, rice, soy steamed greens and fish. Tobirama, who has apparently become terribly spoilt, turns his nose up at it until it's halfway to Hashirama’s mouth.

Another problem has...arisen now that he knows Tobirama is a male omega. In fact, it throbs pointedly between his legs when the boy settles on his lap for breakfast. _Hashirama_ will be as much a danger to him as any courtier, and when his rut arrives he will have trouble controlling himself.

Tobirama notices the strange mood around Hashirama. It’s almost _sad_ and he absolutely cannot let Hashirama continue to be that way. The last bite of breakfast has barely slipped past his lips before he suddenly twists around in Hashirama’s lap and lightly smacks a hand on his cheek.

“No sad anymore.”

And then Tobirama hops up so he can press his nose to Hashirama’s. Now that the affectionate moment is over, he goes right to Hashirama’s pack and crouches down to dig out the clean clothes. It’s very clearly bath time and while Tobirama doesn’t like _cold_ water, the hot water he can privately admit is very nice.

He pads back to Hashirama, who’s still sitting at the table staring at him and he huffs as he holds the thicker clothes in his hand.

“Hot water make Hashriama feel better. Is bath time.” Tobirama holds up the clothing to punctuate his statement, ignoring the faint heat on his face from Hashriama’s staring.

The searching look Hashirama has on his face fades and is replaced with a small, fond smile. Tobirama perks up at the sight of it.

Just as Hashirama opens his mouth, there’s a faint knock on the door, and Tobirama squishes the clothes to his chest and hides his lower face behind them.

Hashirama whirls, ears perked, and sniffs the faint scent of alpha carries through the shoji, and he tucks Tobirama up against his chest as he bids the person at the door entry.

A peacock sweeps in, all ruffled appeal and bird-like grace. He's dressed in a noble’s colours, the silk of his clothes fine spun and the haori painstakingly embroidered. Iridescent purples and blues to match his tail, the eye motief carried around the collar. It ties the fabric to the tail that fans out majestically.

Hashirama almost doesn't recognise him.

"Hashirama," Madara cries at him, voice pitched with the settling of adulthood. His friend is grown fully, dull plumage abandoned for a beautiful train that shimmers in the light of the window.

"Hello, old friend. You look so pretty and put together, I almost didn't realise it was you."

Hashirama moves so quickly he almost blurs, and Madara can do no more than snap his tail shut like a courtier’s fan before he's lifted into an embrace. The stag grins when he catches sight of his kitten, entranced by the feathers.

Tobirama squishes himself further against the wall as Hashirama lifts his...friend? But what intrigues Tobirama more are the soft, long _feathers_ that fold together and have long, long trails of smaller feathers surrounding the big blobs of color.

He doesn’t _think_ he’s been noticed yet, and therefore he crouches, setting the clothes down and slinking along the edge of the room, his eyes never leaving the pretty shimmering feathers. Peripherally he notes that Hashirama is still talking, and so he moves very, very slowly.

There’s a particular motion that causes the light to catch the feather _just right_ and Tobirama stops completely. He wriggles his feet as he attempts to figure out the right distance to go and as soon as some of the feathers flick a little, Tobirama pounces.

As soon as he gets more than two fingers over the feathers, there’s a loud squawk. His ears flatten but otherwise his attention is more on the feathers that are _moving_ —

Tobirama follows, flopping on the floor and batting at the feathers.

"I," Madara snaps at him once he's bitten Hashirama to be set down, " _hate cats_. They're _dirty_ , they _smell_ , they have _parasites_ and they _**pull my tail**_!"

The peacock yanks it away from his kitten, losing feathers in the process and hissing in outrage. The tail is pulled up and away from his charge. Hashirama steps in and blocks Tobirama’s view when he sees Madara gearing up for a kick, and pats his friend's shoulder.

"Don't be so rude to my kitten, he's still just a boy. It's hardly his fault you're the most tempting feather toy, Madara."

The peacock huffs, feathers in his hair puffing with affront. Birds, to Hashirama’s experience, are incredibly vain creatures. He can see the anger building in Madara's body, and nips it tactfully in the bud.

"You have my word he won't be caught doing it again," he says, and before Madara can point out the flaw in it he ushers his friend out. "We were just going to bathe, care to join us?"

"Absolutely not! I don't trust common baths, you never know how long that waters been in there and what's happened in it. Public baths are no better! I'm not so eager to have my ego preened so as to bare myself for every sparrow, finch and tit to see! You'll be using my private baths in the keep."

Hashirama hems and haws enough to seem reluctant, but behind Madara's back he winks at the kitten. Tobirama deserves a treat for the two feathers he pulled. Not that Hashirama will say so aloud.

They trail after Madara, walking easily in his wake. The people on the street that see him coming are quick to scatter, eyes on the ceremonial gunbai gripped like a weapon. Those that don't move are swatted irritably like errand flies and flashed a snap of angry tail feathers.

They reach the keep in almost no time at all.

* * *

Tobirama marvels at the way Hashirama’s friend clears the streets. If he ever was at his old village, he’d have the entire shopping market to himself! It’s a different sort of way that Hashirama makes a path. Hashirama is bigger, and so there’s just more to him physically, but his friend does so despite being smaller. He still sticks to Hashirama’s side like glue, one hand curled into his clothing.

His neck is seriously going to hurt from how much he’s swiveling his head, attempting to take in _everything_.

They arrive at a heavily-walled off area that makes Tobirama nervous. There’s many people standing around in similar clothing to Hashirama’s friend, and their gaze falls heavy on him. There’s even more people who walk around in lots of bright colors. The ones that pass close by smell _funny_ and Tobirama’s glad when they enter a different part of the area.

It’s much quieter here, with fewer people. And further in Tobirama picks up the sound of running water. He hopes it’s hot water. The steam that greets him suggests so, and he noses past Hashirama’s friend the moment the screen slides open—ignoring the strong temptation of feathers.

There’s an offended squawk, a rumbling chuckle, but Tobirama is more focused on where he’s going, and there’s someone already here—

Tobirama stops suddenly and gets run into.

“Seriously? Make up your mind: in or out!” With an offended huff, Hashirama’s friend steps around him to address the other person in the room. “Father.”

That catches his attention. So the other cat-hybrid who’s black hair and fur with streaks of grey is Hashirama’s friend’s father. His tail curls around him and he takes a step back, only to hit Hashirama. He freezes again.

“Madara. I see you brought friends.”

 _Madara_ grumbles, and Tobirama wants to look at him but can’t look away from the older cat-hybrid. Especially not when those piercing eyes turn on him. They give him a once-over so Tobirama reciprocates. Despite the elder sitting naked on a stool with only a small towel on his lap, he’s still a very intimidating figure.

Blushing, Tobirama ducks behind Hashirama and peeks out, watching the older cat turn back to washing himself while still talking to Madara and Hashirama. After a few moments longer, naked and armed with a small towel, Tobirama lightly pads his way over to the stool one over from the elder.

Hashirama catches his gaze and gives him a _look_ , which immediately has Tobirama’s face feel hot and he turns his head sharply away. He focuses on scrubbing himself quickly, stealing glances towards the other cat and after a few moments, copying some of those slower motions.

“Go have your fun, you two, we’ll be just fine. Won’t we, kitten?”

Suddenly those black eyes are meeting his red ones again and he bristles and turns away, ignoring the way the hearty chuckle makes the back of his neck warm. But as soon as the other gets up to go into the hot water, Tobirama briskly dumps a bucket of water over himself to rinse off before shaking a little and trotting after the other.

"So. You're taking in stray kittens now."

Hashirama rumbles an affirmative, one hand slipping back to run over the muscle of Madara's thigh. He can hear the kitten and Tajima quietly splashing about in the bath, and it eases him to know the boy can't see his cock growing.

He sighs when Madara makes a noise of irritation, and cuts short the teasing complaint that he knows is going to come by settling his towel over his lap. He...doesn't want to hear it, gets it often enough as it is. He's big, he _knows_ , and for all people keep reminding him that big is nice, it's not all that good for _him_ when he's the one who sees them snap their legs closed to ward him off.

Madara makes a quiet mew behind him, combining his talons through Hashirama’s hair and rubbing the stumps of his antlers. He feels a gentle kiss on the top of his head, and takes it as a cue to rinse off.

"You know I'm not bothered," the peacock tells him once they've settled a distance away from two cats and Madara seats himself on Hashirama’s lap. Hashirama can see Tajima smiling knowingly, and ignores it in favour of skimming his palm over Madara's back to reel him in for a slow kiss.

Tobirama sits not _close_ , but not that _far_ away from the older cat. His gaze is drawn towards Hashirama, just in time to see him pull Madara down for a kiss. The water laps at his chin where he sinks down just a little bit more.

"Those two have always been like that."

Tobirama looks at the older cat in surprise before looking down at his fingers through the water.

"Ah, I've been terribly rude; you can call my Tajima. Will you tell me your name, kitten?"

He stays silent, hoping that _Tajima_ will let him relax in silence in the hot water.

Tajima hums, and silence falls as Tajima leans his head back with a sigh. Tobirama takes advantage of the opportunity to look more. His hair looks groomed and taken care of and _nice_ —unlike his own which surely must have looked terrible before getting cut. Perhaps Tobirama won't glare at Hashirama later today in thanks.

"Hashirama's always been a physical creature."

His ears tilt in Tajima's direction as he continues to observe Hashirama and Madara through quick glances. 

"Even as a younger buck, he was constantly trailing after his sensei Butsuma all over the place. Poor boy didn't have much coordination before Butsuma drilled it into his thick skull."

Tobirama bites his tongue, confused at the various words and stories and _emotions_ he's hearing in Tajima's language, but he doesn't want to speak. He knows he can't speak nearly as well as Tajima, and both worries about how he'll come across, and that if he speaks, then Tajima will _stop_ —and Tobirama wants to know more about Hashirama.

"For as much as he's charismatic, his circumstantial awareness has never been the best."

"Char-rrismatic?" Tobirama couldn't help but speak out, to turn to face Tajima fully as he tastes the new word on his lips.

This time, he meets those dark, half-lidded eyes straight on and tilts his head as Tajima chuckles. Then a hand is rubbing his ear and Tobirama, already soft from the hot water, leans into the touch.

"Ah, Madara," Hashirama murmurs against the man's lips when a fingertip teases his cockhead, "I feel the need to remind you that your father is sitting right there." _And so is my omega student, who I'll be wild for if I'm not careful_.

His ears tuck back when the elder Uchiha raises a brow, Tajima may not be facing him directly, but Hashirama knows it's aimed at him and he's not sure quite what it means. He can hear the man's voice, and Tobirama's, a chuckle.

That dark gaze is just just cutting back to him when Madara wraps a tight ring of fingers just under his cockhead, and Hashirama tosses his head back with a gasp bordering on pain as his lids flutter. His hand fists where it's gripping the edge of the stone bank, hips bucking for a moment before he gets himself under control again.

"So?" Madara grins when Hashirama glares at him. "You were fine fucking me with my father a rice paper screen away."

Hashirama stands abruptly, dumping the peacock backwards into the water for that. He gives Madara a sharp grin and a growl, cock all too obvious above the water now. Hashirama is far from a shy maiden, and he won't take teasing on his back.

He wades out, followed quickly by an irate peacock. He ducks under the grabbing arm when it comes, and uses his greater size and weight to steer the resulting grappling away from the remaining two bathers.

He knows this will only end with one of them under the other, a cock against their prostate.

Tobirama's eyes snap open at the loud splashes and growls. Hashirama is...getting out? Tobirama nearly pouts. It hasn't been _nearly_ enough time in the nice hot water but he supposes he needs to follow Hashirama.

"Don't bother getting out, little one." The hand lands on his shoulder and Tobirama stares on as Madara, with wet feathers clumping together, follows Hashirama.

"Let them have some fun. They're not going to make it far, anyways."

Tobirama blinks.

"You'll keep an old tom like me company like a good little kitten, won't you?"

Tobirama turns his head away but doesn't make a move to leave the bath. It's only because he hasn't gotten his fill of hot water yet. That's all.

And maybe perhaps because Tajima keeps giving him interesting information about Hashirama.

There's a few moments where Tobirama picks up the movements of Hashirama and Madara knocking things around. When things fall back into silence, he softly speaks.

"Tobirama."

Another beat of silence, and then:

"Well met, Tobirama."

This time he purrs when that skillful hand finds his ear again.

* * *

Their grapple ends with Madara presenting himself, pressed onto knees and shoulders by the strength of Hashirama’s arms. That beautiful tail is tucked under an arm, pinned out of the way.

"Madara," he purrs, low and deep as his fingers rub against the patch of preening oil hidden by feathers. He knows it well, knows how to massage and press to coat his fingers with the slippery substance, and trails them down.

The nutty scent of it, far more apparent to him than Madara, sets his cock throbbing with memories reenacted so often it's almost instinct by now. He's had the peacock like this many times, their fucking slicked with pre-come and feather oil until he'd spilled and fucked Madara sloppy with his seed.

"Oh fuck," Hashirama grunts appreciatively when Madara's pucker opens eagerly for him, the heated press drawing him in deep. He grins with realisation, frots his cock against the Uchiha's thigh. 

"You planned this, you _knew_ it was me and you opened yourself beforehand. Or you've been fucking regularly." He digs his knuckle in against Madara's prostate. "Am I borrowing this hole from a regular?"

"Nngh, fuck you!" Madara bites out instead of admitting Hashirama is right, shifting to grind himself further into his friend's skillful hands.

He _did_ have a client last night and he _also_ stretched himself even more when he caught wind of the multiple brothels that were hit last night. He didn't spend _that_ much time stretching, because he likes the unique burn that taking Hashirama's cock brings.

Of course, he also didn't expect the stupid stag to _have a kitten with him_ —

Madara gasps as Hashirama presses another finger inside him to rub mercilessly inside him. His tail attempts to spread out where it's pinned under his arm. There's something delightfully intimate about allowing Hashirama to express his oil glands, to have him use it to slick him open and his giant, delicious cock that's hitting his thighs—

The twinge his heart gives is easier to ignore, easier to bury underneath the physical sensations Hashirama is giving him. It never was _like that_ between them, never more than the best of friends who shared the same bed and enjoyed physical touches.

The slap to his ass makes him cry out.

"Hey!"

Hashirama grins, easing in a third finger and working them apart. He's a little impatient, but it's been well over half a year since he fucked anyone properly. His cock is already leaking in anticipation, and Madara has proven himself capable.

But then they were much younger...he works in a fourth finger, just in case. He may have grown, but Madara is almost the same as he was. If somewhat less downy and boring in colouration. He's just being considerate.

"Get on with it!"

Which is evidently not appreciated. Hashirama chuckles, pulling his fingers out slowly and dragging them across Madara's prostate. It's sweet, this impatience that crackles through them both like electricity. He savours it, the familiarity and the promise of it.

Madara gasps something desperate as Hashirama’s tip nudges against his swollen rim, canting back eagerly, tail jerking under his arm. Hashirama grins, panting at the promise of hot pleasure squeezing around the tip of his cockhead.

"Hello, Madara," he purrs, thrusting in sharply and cutting the irritable reply off in the man's throat. "For someone who's as eager to bend for me as you are, you're awfully _tense_."

His cockhead slips in at last, wedging the peacock open to a cacophony of sharp mews. Hashirama doesn't stop, knows his partner well enough to tell that Madara _likes_ the disregard.

"Fuck you feel good," he growls, almost to himself. "Hot and _tight_ , but so, so eager to whore yourself for me. Mmmmm such a pretty hen you make, swaying your tail and screaming for me."

He doesn’t let up, doesn't give Madara a chance to gather his wits until his relentless press begins to slow as he thickens. Hashirama doesn't have a knot, or barbs, but a long, tapered cock that serves him well. The tip is only a few finger's wide, but his base is far more girthy. As thick as his own forearm at the trunk and just as long, it's no wonder even _Madara_ (large for an avian alpha) is struggling to take him.

Hashirama's breath huffs with the pleasure of finally letting go. It's spiced with the impression of victory, his alpha instincts basking in the sensation of another powerful alpha bending to him.

He licks his lips and draws back, only to ram the last few inches in deep. There he stops, head tossed back and panting. The sensation of finally burying hilt deep in _heat_ , the painfully tight grip, the sweaty skin and the musk of rampant testosterone. It's enough to make his mouth water.

All the same, Hashirama won't move just yet. Above all else; when he fucks, he wants his partner to _beg_.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Madara pants as he’s stretched and it _stings_ so beautifully.

That’s not even to say anything about Hashirama’s choice of _words_. Which, just thinking back on them, makes the back of his neck hot and his fangs ache. Hashirama’s just fully entered him and the burn hasn’t abated yet but Madara _needs_ him to move. He doesn’t _want_ the burn to leave and he wants to feel this coupling for days but the bastard simply stays still.

It’s a song and dance they’ve done many, many times. It’s still just as irritating as it’s always been. But Madara’s instincts love to be _forced_ , to be cowed, and he relishes in the very physical way Hashirama gets him to submit.

Doesn’t mean he’s not impatient, nor a little bratty, and he knows _exactly_ what Hashirama’s looking for, but it grates to give in with good graces and ask or _beg_ to be fucked.

“Hashirama, I swear, you do this _every time_ —just fucking fuck me already!” He twitches his tail even further up, grinds himself back just a little to make his point.

"And every time you demand, knowing that's not what I want."

Hashirama doesn't give in; he is not the one who will bend. Instead he leans over the peacock and slips his fingers into Madara's feathery hair and _pulls_. The man cries out under him, tail snapping open against Hashirama’s side where he's released it. Hashirama growls, a deep sound that resonates around them, and forces Madara's face against the floor.

His partner resists, hissing up at him, but Hashirama does no more than bare his teeth and growl as he grinds in deep. Madara knows what he needs to say if he wants Hashirama to move.

"Beg for me. Beg for my cock with that whorish mouth, _my Lord_."

Madara squirms where he’s pressed _hard_ into the floor by Hashirama’s harsh hand in his hair. It tugs painfully on his scalp but it’s not an inexperienced hold—the grip is hard but the force is distributed over a larger area, meaning Madara won’t look like a plucked hen by the end of this.

Either way, Madara’s not going to say _thank you_ , and instead fights and thrashes because that’s how it’s always gone and his instincts are bubbling to the surface that this is another _alpha_ and so he must _fight_ —

Ultimately, it’s the use of his title, coming from _Hashirama_ , that breaks him.

“Please,” Madara whines, “Please fuck me with your giant cock Hashirama. Rut into me deep and use me until I can’t walk and will feel you inside me for _days_ —PLEASE!”

Madara ends with a hitched sob as his own cock twitches and leaks onto the floor with his own excitement. He _needs_ Hashirama to move, to stretch him until he’s gaping and can’t sit down.

"Yes, yes I'm a whore—I'm your whore, please please _use me_ —" Madara's well aware he's rambling, but he's going to explode if Hashirama keeps still any longer.

Finally, _finally_ , the burning need to dominate is eased by Madara's capitulation. Hashirama takes a moment to breathe it in, releases Madara's hair to run his hand along the curve of the man's back admiringly, shifting his stance into a better mounting position.

Hashirama draws back, lets Madara's rim drag along his length and relishes how it flutters and clings to his cockhead. A breathy sigh under him, and he begins long, hard thrusts that shake the man under him.

"Yes," he pants, "mine, my whore, my hole to fuck. Oh gods you feel good, so tight, my Lord, so fucking tight! You look good, pressed to the floor like a wanton thing and screaming for my cock. Beg, my liege, beg me to split you open!"

Hashirama is lost in the pleasure of it, sheaths himself again and again in clutching heat, hair swaying with momentum as his pelvis smacks against Madara's ass. He's not going to last long like this.

He doesn’t, and neither does Madara. The Uchiha tips with a shrill scream, hole clutching at Hashirama’s cock. He slams himself in deep, digs against Madara's prostate as he buries himself to the hilt at long last.

His cock twitches, throbs and swells almost painfully as he starts to come, balls pulled up tight as the first spurt of his load splashes deep inside Madara. Hashirama groans low and loud, eyes reverently tracing the outline of a pale omega behind his lids.

It takes Madara a minute to regain any of his senses. His tail is fully spread out and quivering, no doubt tickling Hashirama’s chest and shoulders. He hopes Hashirama appreciates the view, since gaining any amount of coordination to _fold_ his tail into a less obtrusive form is completely gone.

He lets out an annoyed series of chirps when Hashirama starts pulling out. And out. And out— _fuck_ how much has Hashirama grown since the last time they’ve been together? It wasn’t even that long ago!

The ache throbs all the way from his mid-thighs to his mid-back, and his hips feel like they’ll take _weeks_ to sort themselves out. Good.

If there’s one thing that Madara can say about Hashirama, it’s that the stag knows how to fuck.

The wet noise as Hashirama pops free sounds loud and lewd, and Madara’s cock twitches painfully as his hole clenches around a large _nothing_.

A low chuckle ruins some of his afterglow.

“Don’t you start, Hashirama.” Madara glares over his shoulder as he finally flips his tail off to one side. “You did this, so you can carry me out to the room.”

It only takes a few well-practiced moves to have both of them presentable enough to head out to the kotatsu, where he ignores the knowing smirk from his father and instead focuses on not putting any pressure on his hips or ass, and after a few terrible shifts, decides to forgo any sort of subtleness and lays on his stomach.

Watching Hashirama now, it’s obvious that it’s not just his cock that’s grown. Sans antlers, Hashirama _still_ needs to duck to go through most doorways. Those shoulders are also quite a bit broader as well…

But what really holds his attention is the way he seems to care about that mangy little kitten. Madara doesn’t want to know how much worse the kitten was when Hashirama found it. The jealousy stirs within him, because what does that kitten have that _he_ doesn’t? Madara bets that Hashirama’s smallest finger wouldn’t fit inside that tiny body.

And it’s clear that Hashirama favors the boy. He wouldn’t be bothering to scent him like he’s afraid someone else is going to snatch him up otherwise. The kitten snoozing with its head on the table, drooling ever so slightly, nearly makes Madara grimace.

Of course, the lack of any remaining sweets on the table really _does_ make him grimace, and he shoots his father a betrayed, hurt look.

Tajima simply sips his tea with that annoyingly smug look on his face.

 _Cats_.

Hashirama very generously does not point out that Madara begged him to do so, quite literally, at the top of his lungs. Instead he carries Madara back to the sitting room, hiding a proud smirk in feathery hair.

Tobirama is curled up, head on the table, in what must be a truly uncomfortable position. Hashirama does his best to contain the possessive irritation and the thought that Tajima _is sitting far too close to his kitten_.

As much as he tries to contain it, Hashirama’s body is still awash with testosterone and his alpha instincts are high on sex and victory. He scoops the kitten into his lap the moment he sits, muffling the half hearted mew against his chest and nuzzling the head of dandelion fuzz before he lets Tobirama settle in his crossed legs under the kotatsu.

A glance at Tajima tells him he's not being nearly discreet enough, and Hashirama’s ears flick back with annoyance. _Still worth it_ , he thinks, running his hand down a curved back and delighting that the spine there is less prominent now.

Tajima sips his tea and doesn’t even bother to contain his mirth. The boys were loud enough that he felt a little hot under the collar himself. But he had his fun with the little stag who’s not so little anymore. Madara’s the sort of stubborn that of _course_ he’d attempt to act like he doesn’t have a gaping ass no matter how hard he clenches. At least he’s on his stomach, that way the mess won’t get on the floor.

Hashirama has come into his power, certainly. And he’s found such a delightful little morsel of a kitten. Tajima’s not inclined to teach him about the various behaviors and physical signalling; the possessive grip and scenting tells Tajima _just_ what kind of relationship the two have. Or at least, _will_ have. His eyes cut towards the small bit of white hair and lax ears against Hashirama’s stomach.

The boy didn’t seem phased at all with the sounds and cries of sex. In fact, he seemed to have one ear turned towards the hallway the entire time. Interesting.

But if Tajima’s correct in his assumptions, the kitten is surely off the streets, and the instincts barely held back. It’s impressive, what Tobirama pulled off. Tajima’s not sure _where_ Tobirama has squirreled away the dozen wagashi that were out on the table. Certainly not his mouth, since the powder and stickiness would ensure that even a street-wise, always on the run stray would need to _chew_.

When Tajima looks up from the small kitten, he catches Hashirama’s annoyed look. He smiles genially, which only seems to darken Hashirama’s mood.

It isn’t _his_ fault the tiny kitten understood his non-threatening—but entirely _authoritative_ —body language to mean that he would be safe and taken care of. Funny what a little bit of similar biology will do to a very impressionable child.

Tobirama looks gaunt and shifty, sue him for wanting to allow the boy some more sleep.

* * *

Hashirama is very glad to get his kitten away from Tajima. It's not that he _dislikes_ the other alpha so much as he's suspicious of someone whom his kitten is so relaxed with. He knows it could just be a _cat thing_ , but all the same. He...may be just a little jealous. 

On top of it all Tobirama pulls a wagashi out from autumn knows where and all but presses it into Tajima's hand. At least he gets one too, and Hashirama delights in Madara's offended squawking and Tajima's rolled eyes when he leans down to take it between his teeth. Sucking Tobirama’s fingers clean of sugar is just a courtesy.

Hashirama growls at the staring guards when they leave, trying not to look too irritated and jealous when his kitten tells him he _likes_ the tom and asks if they're coming back. Rather than let the annoyance surface, Hashirama hoists the boy into his arms to tease him.

"Why? Does my little kouhai kitten have a _crush_? Do you find Tajima-sama that pretty?" It's all too easy to affect a forlorn hang of the head. "Would you like me more if I was a cat like him? Are you going to leave me for him?"

It's all good natured teasing, of course, but Hashirama knows that if Tobirama decides to stay he will...let go. _Even if it hurts_. If there's one thing he's come to understand, it's that his kitten is a free spirit.

He sighs, smiles at Tobirama when the boy wriggles and buries his nose in dandelion fluff to nuzzle the white ears there. Tobirama smells so good behind his ears; the natural, unique scent of _kitten_ and there's not much he likes more, even if it's tainted by the scent of the old tom.

"I think," he pipes up, carpeting his melancholy with forced cheer and excitement, "that you need some new clothes. I'm not going to buy you fundoshi unless you actually _wear_ them and don't pretend you've lost them all, alright? You need to be dressed properly, it will be winter soon. Speaking of which—"

He catches a slender foot, smaller than his palm, and pinches the pink pads of Tobirama’s toes to extend his claws.

"You're getting _shoes_."

Tobirama’s face flushes at the insinuation that he _like_ likes Tajima. He can’t explain _why_ he enjoys the other’s company, he just does. But it’s nothing like being with Hashirama though.

His ears flick back when Hashirama noses at them and he trills up curiously. He will _attempt_ to wear the fundoshi, but only because it might help cover up when his body decides to get all warm and weird. Of course, Hashirama’s gotten him plenty of layers to wear but Tobirama really just prefers to burrow under _his_ thick clothes.

The hand touching his foot refocuses his attention. It squeezes and Tobirama growls a little bit when his claws come out—just a short warning. He doesn’t think Hashirama will attempt anything to his claws, but he isn’t afraid to use them!

He makes a face when Hashirama says _shoes_. They seem terribly inconvenient and Tobirama sees no benefit to wearing them when they’d simply make so much noise and he won’t be able to use his claws to stabilize himself.

However, despite the pouty, pleading face he makes up at Hashirama, he gets told _again_ that he’s getting shoes and so he sulks as he’s carried, burying his face into Hashirama’s neck and shoulder when Hashirama chuckles at him. He does, however, get a good view of the streets as they walk, and he eagerly takes in the sights and sounds from his safe place in Hashirama’s arms.

There are shadows up high, where _he_ would climb and hide if he were all alone as he was in his previous village. He presses closer to Hashirama and allows the long curtain of his hair to cover more of his face.

Tobirama almost welcomes the relief of the store when they go in, if only to get away from the shadow-eyes. But he’s set down on a bench, his wrist caught in Hashirama’s strong grip, and the thin, mouse-hybrid lady comes in close with a smile. He tugs on his hand because he _doesn’t want shoes_ but it’s completely futile. A few words are exchanged and the lady leaves with a wave of her long, fleshy tail before coming right back with a box.

Tobirama’s heart sinks.

“No!”

His kicking out only knocks his clothing askew and Hashirama sits on the bench to pull his feet into his lap and hold them there. Tobirama wriggles on the bench, successfully turning himself onto his stomach but his feet are caught in an expert hold, and so he flops down, whining and flexing his toes and claws.

Eventually though, the shoes _do_ wind up on his feet and he’s told they’re ‘sandals’. He doesn’t care _what_ they’re called, and that they’re ‘made for felines’, he just wants them _off_.

Tobirama refuses to walk in them and remains boneless as Hashirama picks him up under his arms to attempt to put him on his feet.

Hashirama growls, and Tobirama growls right back.

His feet are captured again and the sandals removed only for something soft to slide onto them. Curious, Tobirama looks and sees the small bits of fabric covering his feet and all he can think of is that they’re making his feet _warmer_. Trilling, his wiggling this time actually gets him his freedom, and he hesitantly puts his feet on the floor.

Hashirama’s talking with the lady again, and it’s pitched in a way that makes Tobirama’s stomach give that weird lurch, so he stands quickly and takes a few steps to focus on something else. However, his foot slips, and his tail snaps up as a counter-balance as his claws come out—rendered ineffective by the fabric.

He mews in distress as he freezes.

Giggles and chuckles sound out and Tobirama can’t even be bothered to respond to them, the growing panic taking hold inside.

“No, no, no.” Tobirama has thrown his arms out as well to keep his balance, and once he’s—relatively—sure that his feet won’t _slide out from under him_ , he looks up at Hashirama for help.

Help that’s easily given and Tobirama finds himself back on the bench with _boots_ on his feet faster than he could scramble away. But he pauses to stare at the boots. They fit his feet, with all the different shapes, and they’ve got some sort of fake paw-pad on the bottom that makes Tobirama curious.

This time, when he sets his foot down on the ground, it doesn’t slide at all.

Tobirama tilts his head and tentatively stands up, his hand gripping Hashirama’s. After a few moments, he chirps because not only can he walk without the ground slipping away, his feet are _warm_. However...

“No good climbing. Boots not good.” Tobirama sulks a little, flexing his claws inside the boots and sighing because there’s no way he’d be able to grip a tree or the side of a building with these on. “But warm.”

_Fucking hormones_ , Hashirama thinks irritably as he licks his lips to make sure no drool has escaped. With his season bearing down upon him, it would seem all Hashirama has to do is share a _room_ with a woman who likely lives with an omega in heat and he starts slavering like a wild animal. He discreetly reaches down to adjust his cock, tucking up against the crease of his hip.

Thankfully Tobirama had stood before he said something truly obscene. He can tell she's single, but the little mouse is barely the height of his elbow. _Very much off the menu for me, I'd break the poor girl in half_.

"You can learn to climb with them on, and if you absolutely insist on getting up into the trees then I'll buy some climbing claws for you. You'll appreciate the sandals, just you see. Tabi are to be worn inside in winter, so you'll get used to them eventually."

Hashirama doesn't blame him. He knows Tobirama loves running around barefoot, but the cobbles are black, and the beach sand gets hot. The only reason he is able to walk comfortably on the beach is because of the thick, hard calluses that cover the balls of his feet, his heel and his toes.

They bid the mouse farewell, and Hashirama only raises a brow when Tobirama _refuses_ to wear the sandals. _Some lessons are best taught through experience_ , he remembers his sensei telling him.

Walking with the boots on is a very weird sensation, and it only takes a couple streets for Tobirama to start lagging behind, unused to the added sensation and therefore overcompensating with his walk. He doesn’t _whine_ at Hashirama, but he _does_ tug incessantly on his coat until he finally gets picked up with a chuckle.

Tobirama hides his face in Hashirama’s shoulder again.

Coming back to the inn is terrible, because he’s set down in the front and Hashirama tells him to take the boots off, as is _polite_. But Tobirama doesn’t know how to take the boots off and simply lifts a foot in Hashirama’s direction. It gets him an amused huff, but Hashirama takes his boots off one at a time. Except...the socks are still on his feet.

But Hashirama’s already leaving, already walking further in after putting their shoes on a nearby rack.

He meows—loudly.

It gets him a grin and an outstretched hand that’s too far away.

He meows again, reaching as best he can with his tail serving to keep him balanced. It’s not enough to reach Hashirama, he realizes and looks at Hashirama’s bright smile with betrayal.

Taking _off_ the socks won’t do much good, because then Hashirama will be _disappointed_ in him.

It’s slow, and it feels incredibly awkward to take such small steps, but he finally reaches that large, tan hand, and grips it tightly. Immediately he’s hauled forward and he slides along the floor when he instinctually dug his heels in. He’s mewling again and Hashirama’s laughing and Tobirama _attempts_ to find his feet under him.

The textured mats inside their room feel a lot more secure under his feet than the wooden floors of the hallway, so Tobirama noses his way past Hashirama the moment he’s able to. On first inspection the room looks the same as they left it, and Hashirama moves to put the dreaded _sandals_ near his pack.

Then he spots it: a folded piece of paper with the _wax_ on the table.

“Paper?” Tobirama says to catch Hashirama’s attention while holding it up.

He’s given a quick head-scratch in thanks as Hashirama opens it to look at the scribbles inside of it. Tobirama watches as that calm face tightens until Hashirama sighs with a lopsided grin. It’s then that Tobirama’s told that he needs to stay in the room while Hashirama attends _business_.

Before Hashirama leaves, they eat lunch. It’s only when Tobirama is just nodding off does Hashirama suggest he take a nap, and that by the time he wakes up again, he’ll be back.

Tobirama, too sleepy to protest properly, trills up at him and pushes into that large hand, giving it a few grooming licks before he crawls his way over towards the futon.

The door closes and Tobirama reaches down and yanks the socks off his feet, content to burrow under the blanket and nap.


	3. Chapter 3

Hashirama obeys the daimyo's summons, not because he's decided to stay, but because the room has a carefully blank smell. Shinobi. He can't take the kitten with him, not to the palace where there are a thousand swords sheathed at the beck and call of one man.

He dons his armor. The thicker hitatare instead of his usual yukata and weatherproof deep green hakama. Then the leather cuirass and his haidate, and finally his do. Tekko, kote, sode and suneate come last. Dressed for war, Hashirama feeds his sword.

Mokuryu, his odachi and oldest friend is as sharp as the day Hashirama made it, and it's grounding to watch the incense smoke dance along the edge before he sheathes it, capping it with a drop of his own blood. His katana is strapped over it, unusual in samurai as the companion sword, but well suited to Hashirama’s body.

Hashirama gives his kitten a goodbye pet to the ears, grinning as Tobirama pats at his armor and digs in sharp little claws to no reaction. He lifts the boy's finger to the maedate of the kabuto he's not put on yet, and traces the Senju vajra with him.

"This is the symbol I inherited from my sensei, and the one you share with me. My Tobirama Kitten of the Senju."

Hashirama ruffles his hair so that this doesn't smack so much of a farewell, grinning when he's barely down the hall and he hears discarded tabi against the floor.

* * *

Hashirama...hates water country. He despises it with a passion that will remain a brilliant sun long after he's died. _And that daimyo, fuck him with a rusty morning star_ , he growls to himself. All seven swordsmen of the Mist for his freedom. As though Hashirama is some champion entertainer.

He'd defeated then all, of course, but now he also knows what's going on.

"Hello Uzumaki-kun," he says through bared teeth that are barely contained in a smile. She looks jerks to look up at him, shock plain on her face for half a second before it's smoothed behind her practiced mask.

"Hello, Senju-dono. So nice to see you again; and I must say, what a lovely little student you have."

Hashirama also _hates_ foxes.

* * *

Tobirama gets far enough along in his nap to be purring softly before he hears it: a kind of scratching noise.

Alert, he swivels his ears to catch the faintest whispers of sound. It's coming from...above? Sitting up, he frowns as the noise skitters over towards the window, and his fur starts standing on end. He doesn't like this. Doesn't like this _at all_.

But he's awake, and he's fought off some bullies before, he knows his claws and teeth are sharp. He crouches, watching a shadow pass over the slats of the window and something small and reflective is stuck through them to unlock the window.

Whoever it is is _fast_ and Tobirama's eyes unfocus and refocus quickly in the rapidly changing lights as the person gracefully enters the room and closes the window behind them in one movement.

He notices the long, thick tail first, and then the hood covers their head, and when they turn around Tobirama notices that their face is mostly covered as well. Tentatively, he scents the air to attempt to catch the other's scent. When he can't smell anything, even when the person walks by him, he's put more on edge.

The door to the room opens and with it, a bright burning candle.

"I was beginning to wonder what was taking you so long."

"'Tis no easy feat to scale _this_ building without being detected, Mito-sama."

"Hmm."

Tobirama doesn't know _why_ these two are in the room. They put him on edge and the shorter one smells _off_. They ignore him up until all the candles are lit, and then the fox hybrid looks right at him.

Feeling caught and vulnerable, Tobirama stands up a little more, his fur bristling out as he glares at them.

"I am Uzumaki Mito." The weird-smelling one says and holds out her hand.

Tobirama stares at the hand for a moment before looking back up at the lady.

The hand comes closer and he hisses.

 _Mito_ tsks and the white tip of her red tail flicks once. "I see Hashirama hasn't taught you any _manners_."

The other, who's leaning against the opposite wall, laughs. "Oh, I like this kid. Fast asleep when I listened in, purring away, yet heard my entrance. Shinobi instincts, this one."

The hand retreats and the lady sits down at the table. Tobirama stares, alternating between the two.

The silence stretches.

"Well, not a very talkative one, are you, little kitten? You haven't even given me your name yet. How are we supposed to get to know each other if you won't tell me your name?" Mito calmly asks.

Tobirama's ear flicks back, once, in answer as he continues staring.

Her irritation is clear to him with the tightening of her eyes. The cloth-covered fox laughs.

Tobirama wishes Hashirama would return soon.

There are multiple more attempts to get him to talk, and he ignores them all with the ease of someone used to being targeted and bribed to do something. Of course, Tobirama isn't sure what the bribe is here, exactly, because he doesn't really _want_ to get to know either of the foxes; neither smells correct to him and their scents (and lack of scents) irritate him.

He perks up when he hears heavy footsteps, and he gives one last glare to the foxes before edging his way around to keep his back away from them until he hears the door open and confirms it's Hashirama there.

Chirping and trilling, he dashes up to his side, wrinkling his nose a bit at the scents coming off of Hashirama, before Tobirama wriggles his way behind Hashirama and the now closed door, putting him between himself and the others.

Hashirama grins as he makes them tea, smearing the blood of the defeated swordsmen all over Mito and Mei's cup just for the pleasure of watching his uninvited guests cringe. The cup he gives Tobirama, however, is spotless.

"I'm so sorry to have missed your arrival. Unfortunately I was called away to speak with the daimyo and, at the behest of one of his courtiers, _win_ my right to freedom. It was most unfortunate that you were unable to attend despite the proclamation that was assuredly sent to you."

Hashirama unbuckles his tekko and lets them hang loose at his side, snatching up the white silk handkerchief that Mito just used to wipe her cup and relishing the twinge of annoyance in her brow as he uses it to clean his hands.

"I'm sure your inability to attend must mean you have very urgent matters to discuss with me."

Hashirama's voice is perfectly calm and even throughout all of it, bare of emotion and falsely bland. He does _not_ take lightly to having his bounds overstepped, and he takes threats to his student even more seriously.

Which is why both his swords are still loose in their sheaths.

Mei didn’t get to be as old as she is as a _shinobi_ by being stupid. She had at least thought that Mito and her would be in and out before Hashirama returned. However, the boy is more stubborn than she was expecting, and Mito has never been one to enjoy _children_. Since her pay doesn’t include interacting with the kid except to contain him inside with Mito talks, she simply waits and observes.

Hashirama is certainly a skilled fighter, considering the opponents he most assuredly beat today. She doubts a man of his size could be taken down with all of her poison darts she has on her. In fact, his posture and casual, purposeful disregard of societal politeness indicates he’s running on a battle high.

And every smart person knows to not provoke an alpha who’s guarding.

Her eyes are drawn again to the small kitten all but plastered to Hashirama’s side, nearly crawling into his lap. A loud rumble and she watches the kitten get pulled further onto Hashirama’s lap.

Ah, she was looking too long, it seems.

The ease that the kitten settles into Hashirama’s lap is very, very telling, and she realizes that this is the moment for a retreat.

“Mito-sama.” It’s but a whisper, but the effect is immediate and Mito flicks her fan open to cover her pursed lips.

“I suppose we should be heading off. You no doubt would like to clean up from your battle and… _celebrate_.”

Hashirama bears his teeth at Mito in response to the pointed look she gave the kitten. Before Hashirama can open his mouth, Mito speaks again as she stands up gracefully.

“I’ll be sure to enjoy your hospitality again sometime soon, yes?”

With a swish of fabric, Mito calmly walks out the room and with one last look over her shoulders at the two, Mei follows Mito out.

* * *

Hashirama is still growling when the door closes, and he tries to tamp down on the fire in his blood, but there's no denying it. Mito’s obvious insinuation hit close to home, and Hashirama’s instincts had only made it worse by reading it as a threat to his claim.

He's hard. Achingly so. Hard with victory, with challenge and with the rush of having an omega here to leap into his arms. His cock twitches, hidden by his armor, kept away from a boy who is not yet ready for the reality of an alpha.

His season creeps ever closer, and Hashirama can feel his control slipping. He nuzzles the kitten, breaths deep the sweet scent behind his ears. His member _throbs_ for it, but it also grounds him.

He knows her timing is not a coincidence, that she planned to do her best to entice him before his season in the hopes of laying with him, tying him to her.

"I'm sorry, kitten. I'm sorry you had to go through that. Do you want to help me clean up? The armor cannot languish in blood, it's disrespectful."

Tobirama trills questioningly up at Hashirama, unsure why he’s being apologized to.

“Clean with _hot_ water? Can help!” 

Wiggling, he slides out of Hashirama’s lap and tugs lightly on the armor. When it doesn’t yield, he moves around to find another piece to tug at. Hashirama chuckles and then Tobirama watches with interest where those big hands go to find the strings and other attachments so the armor can come off.

The first bit of tan skin to be exposed is Hashirama’s shoulder where the inner clothing has slipped. Playfully, Tobirama pounces, teeth and nails applied at the barest of pressures.

His back hits the floor at a dizzying speed and his head lolls to the side, easily exposing his neck. There’s this high-pitched whine that stops when he takes a breath, and he realizes that it’s _him_ making that noise.

He can feel the rumbles from Hashirama above him in his _bones_ and there’s a pressure on his neck that leaves his gasping. There’s no way that Tobirama can even _think_ about moving right now, and his entire body lies limp.

Hashirama sucks the skin between his teeth until he knows it will bruise a beautiful purple. There's fire in his veins, fanned by the bellows of his lungs into wild flames, hot as those of the iron works.

He groans with it, practiced fingers unlacing his armor and shrugging it off to be set down out of mind. His hitatare is loose, and he shrugs it off to pool at his waist. His skin glitters with sweat, and there's no more hiding the bulge between his legs.

His ears perk, his nipples harden, and Hashirama’s gaze drinks in the submission before him as he lowers himself down on top of his kitten. His ears twitch to catch every whimper and mew as his lips taste the soft skin, trailing across slim collar bones and down to a narrow chest.

He purrs appreciatively at the little swells he finds there, barely-there breasts, mounds of pale flesh topped with perked pink nipples. He groans at the arch he gets for taking one in his mouth, slips a hand under the curved spine to hold his omega there as he begins to suckle.

Hashirama rumbles encouragingly when slender legs bracket his ribs, tugs on the peak in his mouth in reward and drinks down the hitched gasp like it's all he needs to hear. His hand slips down, running along a thigh and squeezing hand full of plumping ass. His little finger brushes something _hot_ , and Hashirama’s hips slam into the floor with a groan.

His hakama has shifted, and Hashirama’s aching, drooling, purple cockhead twitches in the cool air, dribbling a sticky strand of pre-come down onto his kitten.

A part of him _wants_ to push aside the boy's yukata and undo the fundoshi, to slide into the heat of his kittens pussy—his cock spurts a thick rope of desire at the thought—but the rest of him knows he cannot.

"Tobirama," he whispers, hand slipping down to fist his cock, "close your eyes."

It takes only a few rough strokes, the boy's fundoshi pressed to his nose, before he comes.

Hashirama grunts, wadding the material around his cockhead, whining when white seeps passed it and his fingers to drip onto the boy's belly in thick globules.

"Sorry," he pants, and then once he's done and deems them both mostly clean, "You can open your eyes now. Let's get to cleaning, hmm? Yes, we'll use hot water, and afterwards we can have a bath."

He'll need to speak to Madara for a place to spend his season. There's no way around it.

Tobirama’s entire body feels _tingly_ and like he’s floating. Hashirama’s touch causing him to purr and gasp and lean into them for more.

He can’t do anything but obey the order for him to close his eyes when Hashirama tugs off his fundoshi and Tobirama shivers as the air hits the exposed, tender areas. Ultimately it’s the combination of Hashirama’s whine—a sound he’s _never_ heard from him—and the feeling of something _hot_ falling onto his tummy that makes him peek through his lashes.

Only to blush as he takes in Hashirama’s squeezed eyes, thrown back head, and open mouth. He closes his eyes before Hashirama can catch him and lightly purrs as he feels those large hands cleaning him up.

Tobirama perks up at the promise of hot water and a hot bath. Shaking out the lingering tingles from his body, he settles himself opposite Hashirama and copies his diligent scrubbing. He’s nowhere near as good as Hashirama, but he gets his ears scratched when he finishes the piece he’s been given.

The bath is simply the best and Tobirama doesn’t even care that he’s purring so loudly or laying against Hashirama. He’s held in the bath and because he’s lightly dozing off he simply curls himself over Hashirama’s lap, pressing a few kisses on the underside of his jaw in gratitude.

When he yawns for the fourth time, Hashirama chuckles and stands up, easily carrying him back to their room. There’s a meal waiting for them, steam curling upwards and scents making Tobirama salivate. He paws and whines pitifully at Hashirama, and purrs loudly when Hashirama feeds him off his own chopsticks. His eyelids grow heavier and heavier throughout the meal, and at some point Hashirama starts feeding him with his fingers. Tobirama turns up the volume on his purrs, until his whole chest vibrates with it, and he even shows his thanks for each bite by gently lapping at those fingers with his raspy tongue.

Eventually his eyes close fully and the food stops being brought to his mouth but he continues to purr and curl his tail happily until sleep takes him.

* * *

Hashirama shows up at Madara's door late in the evening with all his bags packed. He doesn’t _want_ to do this, but he's been hard since the bath and fears for his control. He can't risk putting the kitten in danger by leaving him alone at the inn or in a whore house.

He explains his reasoning to Madara, who had been frosty with the late hour and doesn't seem to be warming all too quickly. Hashirama hates to ask, hates to admit a weak will, even if this is his strongest, most intrinsic instinct.

He can't get Tobirama out of his mind; the warmth in his lap, the purr, the kisses to his throat, the rasping tongue that would feel so _good_ elsewhere. His blood is hot for his little stray, and Hashirama will be helpless to stop himself. Even his sensei had known not to trifle with a rutting elk.

Ultimately Madara agrees, and the heavy oaken door that separates him from his kitten only serves to make him antsy.

It’s half past eleven in the evening, and Hashirama meets Madara in a biting kiss, whirling him to face the door and tearing both their hakama down to slide into a sucking, hot hole.

* * *

Tobirama wakes up with a soft sigh and a trill. It takes a moment before he starts rooting around underneath the blanket seeking Hashirama’s warmth. When all he meets is the cold floor, he opens his eyes and pokes his head out of the blanket, head swiveling only to find that this is _not_ the inn room.

A chuckle has him snap his neck to the side so fast it pops. He didn’t even notice Tajima there!

But there he is, sitting and sipping out of a cup at the table.

Tobirama frowns a little, because he can’t remember _how_ he got here, or what that means for Hashirama.

His chirp is met with an ear flick and so Tobirama asks his question.

“Where Hashirama?”

“Come sit, Tobirama.” Tajima says, completely not answering his question at all.

Curious, Tobirama goes, easily finding a spot right next to the tom. He tilts his head as Tajima sighs and looks over at him.

“How much do you know about your sensei’s hybrid type?”

He tilts his head.

“Ah, I thought so. Listen closely, little kitten. This story starts before you were even born.”  
.  
.  
.  
_It begins before even Hashirama was born, with a wolf who was cherished very deeply by his family. He was a boy who was raised with high expectations, a precious gift because of his ability to bear young_.

“Butsuma!”

Butsuma winces, his tail tucking between his legs. “Yes, mother?”

“And just _where_ do you think you’re going?”

“Out, mother?” He bats his eyes innocently up at his mother, despite the trick never seeming to work on her anymore.

A strong huff.

“Not in _those_ clothes you don’t. I don’t understand why you must make everything so hard for us, dear.”

Butsuma’s ears drop as his mother herds him back inside to take off the ‘ill-suited’ pants and shirt for the more acceptable dress.

_Now, Butsuma has never told me the details, but his town suffered a devastating fire that consumed the half his house was situated in. It was many, many years before Senju Butsuma surfaced again, this time not as a dainty little cub_.

“Hey you!”

Butsuma’s ear twitches at the shrill voice sounding out behind him, but he otherwise continues on his way atop his horse. This town had a murder he solved, and with the donations he received, he’s going to be able to make it as far as the city easily. But he’ll continue to help—

A high-pitched wail has Butsuma turning around to check behind him, because _surely_ that’s a noise someone in distress would make, only he found this knobby-kneed little stag, too tall for his legs and horns but small nubs atop his head.

“Yes, boy?”

“Teach me!”

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow as he lets the weight of his stare fall upon the boy. Quietly he’s impressed with the boy’s willpower, staring right back at him in the eyes and causing his stomach to clench in want.

“Teach a rude little calf who doesn’t know when to leave others alone?”

A mulish look appears on the boy’s face and Butsuma reassesses how soon he’ll need to stop to find more work, given how he’ll have a growing boy to feed along the way.

_Hashirama?_

_Yes, Tobirama. Hashirama barged his way in and didn’t care that Butsuma was a slave-driver who ruthlessly beat not only some manners and skills into him, but also taught him about his body in a gentle, caring way. You could say that the boy made a big soft spot grow in Butsuma_.

Butsuma watches with curiosity as Hashirama’s antlers shoot up, as Hashirama’s gaze turns towards the fertile women that his burgeoning instincts are allowing him to finally smell.

Even if Butsuma couldn’t smell the change unfolding in Hashirama’s scent, it’s all too easy to see the way Hashirama’s beginning to fill out, to grow alongside his antlers.

He supposes he’ll have to teach him more about sex, Butsuma muses as he walks back towards the inn where he left the boy so he could grab some dinner for them. Hashirama has begun to do his own laundry, and while he wishes it’s because he’s finally drilled some responsibility into the boy, he knows it’s far more likely to be simple _embarrassment_.

Which simply won’t do, especially from his own wakashu.

For a place so small, it certainly has lots of charm with its inn right on the beachfront. The shark at the front desk had worked him over into an expensive room that Butsuma is pleased really _does_ offer the best view of the ocean. Perhaps he can convince Hashirama that the sunrise is worth getting up early for.

He nods genially to the shark hybrid on his way back to his room, stomach grumbling with the scent of food so close. As he opens the door, he opens his mouth to tell Hashirama to set the table only for the words to catch in his throat as the unmistakable scent of _alpha_ assaults him.

And there, on the floor on what appears to be all of the dirty clothes Butsuma was going to wash tonight, is Hashirama. A very flushed, panting Hashirama who’s not only rutting down into the pile of clothes, but also has his nose buried deep inside one of his fundoshi.

The bolt of heat that runs down his spine has him noticeably wet. Ah, he supposes he has a few more lessons to teach the boy.

“Hashirama.”

It speaks to how respected he is in Hashirama’s eyes that even in his very first rut, the boy still listens, shakes and shivers as his hips give tiny, involuntary thrusts. Butsuma wonders how long Hashirama could fight off his instincts for him. He walks past Hashirama, showing him his back and attempting not to think too hard on the zing that goes down his back from the heavy, attentive gaze on him.

The food is set on the table, and Butsuma is thankful that he decided to buy more than usual. His little alpha will need the calories.

After another few moments, and a near silent whine from Hashirama, Butsuma finally turns around to meet those big, pupil-blown wide eyes.

“Would you like some help, Hashirama?”

Hashirama feels...caught in the act; which he just was. His ears are caught between remaining perked with excitement and drooping with guilt, and he resolves it by letting one flop down and leaving the other trained on his master.

He just couldn't _help himself_ ; sensei's clothes had smelt delicious, fit to roll in (which he actually _had_ ). Something in Hashirama’s brain is rearing in challenge, and he knows better—he does—but his body doesn't listen.

He arches, tail up like a proud little flag. A challenge, he worries. _Advertisement_ , something tells him. Hashirama is just about to nod, just about to admit to his folly and inability to control his body, when it gets _worse_.

He opens his mouth to say 'yes please', when there's a twinge in his belly. Hashirama’s face goes slack and hot when the realisation hits him; he's going to be in so much trouble, sensei is going to skin him and tan his hide with the thinnest bamboo he can find, because—

Because Hashirama is _peeing on sensei's clothes_! He's not done this since he was a little boy, and at fourteen it's so embarrassing his face feels like it's going to melt off. He has to stop! He must stop because his master is looking at him with narrowed eyes and pricked ears and— _stop, stop, stop, why are you doing this to me_!

His eyes are watering and he's trembling like a newborn calf when he finally gets a hold of himself. Hashirama sniffs, and he wants to lower his head and hide away in shame but his spine is locked in a proud arch and his cock _hurts_.

"Please, sensei—I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I'll do all the washing—it's just, I don't understand—"

It’s apparent to Butsuma that his charge simply has no idea that he’s gone into rut. Usually there’s a fair amount of warning signs, but looking back, Butsuma can’t pinpoint any specific ones.

The acrid scent of piss has him wrinkling his nose. There’s some mystery there that Butsuma will puzzle out at a later date, but for now the main concern is Hashirama himself. He watches as Hashirama threatens to shake apart, as Hashirama’s tail is lifted in clear invitation. The boy must still be under the impression he’s a beta, if not an alpha.

Not as though he’s given Hashirama much to reason with, considering the soaps he uses to help dull his scent and the fact that all of their shared touches have been over clothes.

The boy clearly finds his scent _appealing_ , if his current behavior is anything to go off of. Butsuma is secretly flattered. And horny. There’s only so much one can do with others when attempting to keep such a secret as his.

But with Hashirama…

His secret will be safe, with Hashirama.

He rumbles—a mixture of purring and humming he’s found has a similar effect as an alpha’s growl—and crouches down to be closer to Hashirama. Carefully, he reaches out and pets down that beautifully arched and tan back with a light touch. That cute tail flicks excitedly and Butsuma can feel his own start to wag in response.

Butsuma can’t deny that Hashirama smells delicious to him, and he can feel himself getting wetter just from breathing it in.

“I’m going to take the edge off, and then we’ll clean up a little. Brace yourself.”

Without further instruction, Butsuma smooths over the curve of Hashirama’s ass and underneath his tail. The dryness there is the first problem Butsuma needs to address. His first thought he rejects immediately; there’s no way he will do that when Hashirama isn’t clean. But his next thought…

The whine Hashirama gives him only helps as he shuffles his clothing around so he can collect some of his own slick on his fingers. He’s plenty wet already, so it’s a fairly simple task.

Those tan hips give another jerk when Butsuma’s full scent fills the room.

“Calm, Hashirama.”

As his now slick hand travels back underneath that lifted tail, his other hand ruffles Hashirama’s hair and rubs his ears. Surreptitiously, he skirts around Hashirama’s neck to his shoulders and around to touch his chest.

Hashirama’s lids flutter at the first brush of fingers down his back, and he sighs. It _burns_ , tingles and washes goosebumps over his skin, but it's so unbelievably good. He rumbles in reply to his sensei, tail flicking and wriggling.

There's a wash of scents, neroli and wheat fields which is undeniably his master, and under that is something _else_. Something delicious, something irresistible, and when he opens his mouth to taste it on his tongue a strand of drool runs out.

The fingers, dry earlier, come back _wet_ , and Hashirama’s hips buck at the first tentative press. He _growls_ , some part of him insisting that this sensation does _not_ go with the nice smell. Something brushes his neck and his teeth snap, but it wanders off soon enough.

Hashirama's back is tense, and his tail comes down for a moment when fingers press in, but there's something nice about the little pinch to his nipples and it springs up again immediately.

His sensei is still making that noise, and something about it is grating. It's not right, not what he wants, and he's starting to pull away when there's a hand brushing against his cock.

It calms him, sends his angrily tucked ears back up, and Hashirama breaths easy again as his hips jump for contact. The brush of calluses against his shaft makes him purr, makes his balls twitch and his cockhead dribble a sticky stream of pre-come.

The fingers are almost forgotten up until they brush something _amazing_ inside him and his tail flicks, hips rocking back and—

"Yes—yes yes yes, sensei ngrh! More, more—what is that—please more!"

Butsuma’s control slips, and his purr vibrates through his chest unimpeded as his student cries out for him. He’s making such a big mess everywhere, his already sturdy cock dribbling out over his hand and onto the soaked clothing, his mouth with small strands of drool falling down his face.

Hashirama is beautiful like this, all flushed and hungry for his touch. His body language runs hot and cold, and belatedly Butsuma realizes that his own presence and his hidden dynamic must be affecting the boy.

Pitching his purr a bit lower, as he was taught to do so many years ago, he builds up a rhythm to the push-pull of his hands. It only takes a few more moments before Hashirama’s crying out, tensing up as thick ropes of come fall from his cock. The scent is incredible, and makes the repressed omega instincts inside him flare briefly, making his own tail flick up and toes curl.

“Now that you’re—” Butsuma cuts himself off as Hashirama grinds into his hand more.

The first thing he notices is that _there’s no knot_. He may not have kept up with his dainty omega lessons but he knows there definitely should be one. Confused, it takes Hashirama whining out his name for him to refocus.

Removing his hands from Hashirama is hard, especially with the gasps and moans doing so gets him, but he does so to slip off his yukata and drape it over the boy. It’s effective to keep those long limbs from thrashing about as he picks Hashirama up to move him off the sodden pile of clothes.

“Hush, Hashirama, I’m just moving us to a better place.”

He’ll have to pay for the mess, and the futon, but comfort is more important. As soon as Hashirama touches the futon he’s rolling around, bringing the yukata underneath and rutting into it a few times as he stuffs his face into it.

Ah, it would seem as though it is an elk thing.

Butsuma presses his hands into Hashirama’s thighs before moving them up to tease the heavy, swollen balls he has a clear view to. It’s easy to shuffle closer and wrap a hand around that cock that’s definitely bigger than his own cocklet. After a few pumps his fingers find their way back into that twitching hole.

“Tell me what you want, Hashirama.”

Hashirama’s not new to the pleasure of coming. He's been busy every spare moment of alone time he gets; he really, _really_ likes the pleasure his sensei encouraged him to find when he'd first started getting curious about omega girls.

He'd find a nice quiet space after his kata to stroke himself to peak. And then again after lunch. And the bath. And dinner. And, if he's lucky and his master is out late, one last time in bed. Hashirama likes coming a _lot_.

This, however, is a world in it's own. Sensei strokes him to peak, making _that noise_ that makes Hashirama tense and relaxed all at once. He's _loud_ , far louder than he usually is, when he comes. Normally Hashirama can ignore that he's still hard afterwards, and it goes away, but there's no ignoring it now.

Butsuma moves away, and Hashirama protests the only way he can right now. Thankfully he's back soon, and that delicate scent envelops him as Hashirama is lifted and moved onto the futon.

The second he can, he rolls to hump the soft fabric, smearing it with the remnants of his last orgasm and the fresh rush of pre-come. He buries his nose in it, relishes it as he breathes deep.

His eyes roll at the brush against his balls; they're swollen and hard and _full_ , sensitive like never before. Even the barest brush feels good, and they twitch up a little at the hint of touch. His tail lifts, wriggling in anticipation.

Fingers at his hole, and this time he's eager for the pleasure he knows they'll bring, the touch to some special place deep inside that makes his cock and balls tingle. His pucker milks them when they slip in, grasping and greedy.

But there is something else, something that's _missing_ , and no matter how many times his hole winks and sucks at those fingers the feeling won't go away.

"More," he rasps, confused and desperate, "I need _more_ sensei. Some—something else, something missing. Feels so good—oh! Yes! There! That! And more! That and something else! Nrgh—aah! Sen-sensei, please I need _more_!"

Butsuma pauses.

More? But…

Hashirama is panting underneath him, and there’s really nothing Butsuma can do except give Hashirama what he’s asking for. And there’s only one thing left that he can think of that’s _something missing_ as well as _more_.

Personally he’s never done anything like _this_ before. He hasn’t been with anyone in even _half_ of this kind of intimate setting but Butsuma is no coward any longer and he will _make_ this work.

“Okay, Hashirama, okay.”

His cocklet twitches when he pulls his fundoshi off completely, wet with his slick. It’s mere moments later that Hashirama is _babbling_ , his little tail going around in interesting circles. The slip of fabric touches the ground off the futon for a fraction of a second before small hands are pulling it into the makeshift little den Hashirama’s made.

It makes Butsuma blush, the growl that comes out of his student just from breathing in his scent. Thankfully the boy is too preoccupied stuffing his face in the wet fabric to see it.

He pulls his fingers out of Hashirama to a whine, and makes sure his cocklet is completely covered in his slick before pressing it against Hashirama. There’s a hitched breath and Butsuma is quick to shush the boy, steadying himself as the tip of his very sensitive cocklet slips in as he reaches around to stroke that thick cock as a distraction.

Hashirama clutches at the futon, panting as something thicker— _hotter_ — than fingers slides in. He huffs, heavy breaths that rush through him. There's a stroke down his cock, and Hashirama is a little comforted by the familiarity of it.

All the same, he _moans_ at the press in, rim fluttering and clamping tight on the intrusion. He's high on the scent of what must be his masters pre-come, mouthing at the fabric and suckling on it to chase the taste.

"Mmmmrgh, kami sensei, so good," he groans, ramming back and taking the rush of sensation with a cry of ecstasy muffled by wet fabric. There is _still_ something missing, but the hard impact of his masters cock against that amazing place inside him allows him to ignore it for the time being in favour of chasing his current pleasure.

Hashirama pants, smacking away the hand that tries to still him in a manner he usually wouldn't _dare_ employ. He doesn’t care. His hole squeezes tight with every rock forward and flutters eagerly with every push back.

Hashirama is filled again and again with incomparable new pleasure, eyes glazed and crossed as he chases it, fundoshi gripped between his teeth. Every impact against his good spot punches a feral grunt from his chest and a spurt of pre-come from his cock, striping over his master's yukata like an enormous sticky cobweb.

Butsuma grips Hashirama’s hips in a punishing grasp, yet the boy continues to push past and slam himself back against him. His attempt to slow the motions is met with a growl and a _smack_.

Well, if that’s how Hashirama wants it.

His hand comes down with as much force as Hashirama had smacked him with, right down onto one of those tan cheeks. The grizzling yelp morphs into a moan and the cock in his hand jerks and twitches with release. Gritting his teeth, Butsuma manages to not howl as his cunt clenches around nothing because his cocklet’s getting _squeezed_ and it feels better than anything Butsuma has ever felt before.

Surely, surely after two—

His gentle questing with his hand reveals that there’s still no knot, and Hashirama’s tapered cock is _still hard_. A small disbelieving sound comes out of him. From the stories he’s heard and read, there definitely should be _some_ kind of relief happening. He can—and _will_ —tough this out for his student. Or at least, until Hashirama’s tired enough for him to be able to slip away and get help.

He believes he’s going to need it.

* * *

“And that’s when Butsuma stumbled upon me for help. Which was fortuitous for both of us, because he needed an experienced hand and I needed the money.”

“Help?” Tobirama’s eyes dart towards the door to the room before finding Tajima’s again.

“Yes. Madara’s helping your sensei right now.”

“Tajima help too?”

Tobirama’s question startles a rumbling laugh from him. “I’m not sure, little kitten. The last and only time I helped Butsuma with Hashirama, he wasn’t fully grown yet, and we had to ply him with so much alcohol until he became pliant and stopped growling aggressively towards me. Though I’m fairly certain he’s forgotten most of the experience, due to the alcohol.”

Tajima smiles when the kitten looks back towards the door. Then, he sighs dramatically to get Tobirama’s attention again.

“I suppose I could help if Madara decides Hashirama’s too much to handle for an entire week.”

Tobirama doesn’t say anything, but his ears perk up. He can’t wait to tell the kitten that he’ll have free range of the entire estate besides the room Hashirama’s in.


	4. Chapter 4

Hashirama is hot, sticky with come and dripping with sweat. It's _glorious_ , setting himself free like this, letting his alpha nature run wild and working for his dominance over the smaller specimen under him.

"Mmmmm you like that, don't you?" He purrs down at the peacock bouncing against his thighs. He's undeniably pretty like this, lying on his back over spread tail feathers, hips held up by the strength of Hashirama’s arms and legs spread in a near split.

Madara cries out, a peacocks call, loud between them and voice hoarse from screaming his way through eleven or so orgasms that Hashirama has given him. The stags ears flick, tail lifting as his cock pulses. He rams in hard, bumping almost painfully against Madara's walls.

His submitting partner claws at the sheets, but the approaching peak (Hashirama’s fourth) won't be _nearly_ enough. Hashirama wants to _breed_ —to _mate_ —and anything short of an omega, of _his_ omega, won't suffice.

All the same he tips Madara through a dry orgasm, moaning open mouthed at how his cock is milked shamelessly by the clutching hole he's grinding into. His own comes not soon after, and Hashirama humps his seed in deep, snarling when there's a shift under him.

They're both panting at the end of it, Madara's rim swollen and puffy and incapable of holding any more seed. His previous load is seeping out between them in thick strands, and Madara’s lids are fluttering closed.

Hashirama huffs, pins the man's ankles next to his head and drives in with a cock that's not softened in the slightest.

* * *

Tobirama wiggles his butt in anticipation as the harried-looking guard comes closer. The long, ruffled tail passes by his hiding spot and he jumps from the bushes, pouncing on the long dark feathers with a loud trill. A yelp sounds out and then his collar is grabbed.

“ _There_ you are, young master.”

Tobirama chirps happily up at the avian guard, his mouth full of dark feathers. The look he gets doesn’t affect him nearly as much as the first dozen times he received it. His tail curls happily as he’s carried back inside and into the room he’s probably _supposed_ to stay in.

Tajima is there, which perks him up. He wriggles enough until the guard has to put him down or risk dropping him and then he runs right up to Tajima, presenting the feathers to him with both hands.

“I see you’ve been busy.” Tajima pets his ears, and Tobirama trills at him.

“Please don’t encourage him, Tajima-sama.”

“He’s a curious little kitten, let him have his fun.”

A short bow, and then Tobirama’s alone with Tajima. He folds himself down on a cushion next to the elder and snags the onigiri that’s offered to him. It has salted salmon in it and he purrs as he eats it.

A quick nap against Tajima’s side later and Tobirama is ready to explore the other side of the estate—the one with quite a few guards and other people working are in. He thinks he’s going to find something _incredible_ over there, with all those people!

And he’s found a way to get there with minimal risk of getting caught, too!

Tobirama gives Tajima a little flip of the tip of his tail in response to the low chuckle as he pads his way out of the room sock-less, again.

He’s small enough that getting up to the wooden beams that run along the underside of the _engawa_ is easy, and he creeps along them silently over the guards and the workers. There’s a hallway that no one’s in, so he leaps down with a small _thump_ and curiously sniffs his way down the length. The walls are different here, and so are the doors. The lack of scents coming through them makes Tobirama even more curious, and as he passes each one he presses one of his ears to the sturdy wood to listen.

Each one yields nothing interesting until one near the end of the hall. The sounds are familiar, and one of the voices Tobirama places as Hashirama!

Checking over his shoulder to make sure no one is there, he gently turns the doorknob and pulls only for the door not to budge. Pushing doesn’t result in anything, either.

Fine then. Tobirama will look for another way in.

* * *

Madara expected the roughness, expected the pheromones that _screamed_ for him to submit, to tuck tail and look down. But no matter how many times he’s gotten fucked by Hashirama over the years, he always seems to forget what Hashirama is like _during rut_.

As he’s folded spectacularly in half in a show of flexibility that typically has him puffing up in pride but now only displays him in such a lewd fashion, Madara thinks it may just be because he’s _never awake for it all_.

“Hashirama—ah, _fuck_ —if I pass out, you don’t fucking—nnngh—leave this room!” Madara writhes underneath the assault, too tired after many hours of harsh, continuous sex. “Fuck me while I sleep just don’t leave!”

His plea sounds needier than he wants it to be, but the last thing his staff needs is to be accosted with Hashirama while he’s like this. Gods know what sort of havoc he could wreck.

Madara’s last thought before sleep takes him, as he tips over the edge again—more _painful_ than pleasurable, is that he really will need his father to help when he can finally crawl his way out of the room.

Hashirama makes a deep, animal noise of assent, one ear flicking toward the door when the knob moves. He's not even bothering with pleasing Madara now that the man has passed out; there's no point in wasting skill on one who can't appreciate it.

Hashirama chases his own pleasure, hips diving ceaselessly, head tossed back and mouth open to pant. His eyes are half lidded, and now that Madara is quiet under him, he has the chance to dig up more desired voices.

 _Omega_ voices, pitched to set his loins on fire with lust. The familiar voice of his sensei, worn smooth of words with frequent use but enticing all the same. A _new_ voice, bright in his memory, trilling sweetly, his name. Always his name; "Hashirama", over and over again, in curiosity, in happiness, so easy to twist into _pleasure_ —

His eyes catch white in the window and it's enough to send him into a bellowing orgasm. Eyes rolling back, hips rutting furiously until they slow into the forceful smacks of breeding. His vision dims, his sac pulls taught and he groans in breathless painful pleasure as his come begins to spurt in thick ropes, engorged cock leaping with every jet.

Hashirama slowly regains his faculties, lifting his bowed head and breaking the string of drool tying him to Madara's cock. He moans, tipping his head back and grinding in for the pleasure of the fluttering around his dribbling member. He's still on edge.

His eyes open, flicking to the iron barred windows. Red eyes meet him there, and Hashirama is pushed that last little bit that he needs. He topples into his sixth orgasm at the sight alone, and when the rush slows to a stream his shoulders slump with some semblance of satisfaction at last, even if it's likely only for a rut induced hallucination.

Hashirama rumbles, pulling out his still hard, _still coming_ cock with a long, lewd, sucking wet slurp that is cacophonous in the sudden lull. A wet splatter of his seed follows, and he lowers Madara's legs before lying down to rest a little before his next session.

* * *

Tobirama drops back down onto his heels from where he was on his tiptoes to see through the unusually high-set window that had _metal_ on the outside of it. Hashirama and Madara—

It looked _messy_ , and Madara even seemed to be sleeping! But Hashirama looked as he did just last night, when he was pinned to the floor. The same, warm and tingly feeling overcomes Tobirama. His ears lay flat against his head as his face warms.

He tears around the building and ducks under several arms as he dashes on the engawa. There’s several shouts and exclamations, but Tobirama doesn’t stop until he’s buried his face into Tajima’s thigh with a whine.

The chuckle Tajima gives him is comforting, for the weird and twisty feeling inside of him. The hand touching the back of his head isn’t the hand he _wants_ right now, but he’s glad for the distraction.

“I see you found trouble, kitten.”

Tobirama shakes his head but Tajima doesn’t have to call him out for the lie, he only hums and continues petting his ears.

* * *

Madara has one singular blissful moment as he wakes up. Then he takes a too big breath and nearly bites his tongue off as the pain flares.

Everything from his waist to his knees feels bone-deep sore on a level he hasn’t experienced in a very long time. It’s a good thing Madara is so durable, otherwise he’s sure he would have ruptured _something_ and died terribly on his friend’s huge cock.

A quick look to his side confirms that yes, Hashirama really is napping. Madara had figured as much since he isn’t getting actively fucked.

Thankfully Hashirama is as deep a sleeper as he always is during rut and he’s able to drag his body away from the other. His sticky, gross, aching body. He keeps his grumbles to a very quiet volume, unwilling to wake Hashirama—he will gladly let the stag keep that feather he’s lying on right now if it means Madara can _leave_.

It’s slow-going, crawling on the floor mostly on his hands and stopping to lie on his side for breaks, but eventually he makes it to the door. Somehow, he thinks that the door handle really _shouldn’t_ be so far away from the floor.

With the help of the wall, he’s at least able to stand on his knees, and gravity helpfully pulls all that come that’s inside him out. Madara grimaces. First, crawl and beg on his knees for his father’s help, _then_ a bath.

There’s a wet splat from below him, loud in the otherwise quiet of the room.

Or perhaps a quick clean up before the begging.

Hashirama knows the moment he stirs to consciousness that he's not alone, that it's not _Madara_ who is with him. His ears swivel to the shift of fabric and the slosh of liquid. He growls, a low, deep warning to let whoever it is that's sitting behind him know he's not in the mood for being provoked.

He yawns and rolls over into a crouch, cock already hard and dripping where it points toward the intruder. He recognises Tajima, clad in silky thundercloud grey to go with the streaks in his hair and the salting of his black fur. He also recognises the other scent coming off the older alpha.

 _Tobirama_ , warm and aroused and just present enough to make his member twitch and dribble a sticky string of pre-come onto the filthy sheets that Tajima is very carefully _not_ sitting on. Hashirama prowls closer.

He ignores the cask of sake and the masu in favour of tracing the scent of his little omega, snarling with possessiveness when there's heavy smears of it over Tajima's thighs and hands. He springs.

The short scuffle is over before it really begins, and Hashirama has his teeth in Tajima's scruff. The older alpha is pinned under him, Hashirama’s length rubbing up against his back, the molten heat of his cock swaying heavily under the cat's belly.

He holds the tom there, settles against him and weighs him down with a far bigger body. They remain like that until Tajima stops hissing and goes limp under him; Hashirama does not release his scruff.

Instead he uses his hips to hitch the fabric higher, exposing the weaker male to his need, snarling when there's a throaty noise of protest under him. It falls silent quickly and the fluffy tail is raised obligingly for him.

The little pucker he finds is hot and slick against his cockhead, and he makes a noise of approval as he slowly pushes in. There's a wonderfully stuttered "a-aah!" under him, and the tight ring pops when his pointed head finally slips in. Hashirama doesn't stop.

Hashirama doesn't pause, not for the breathless noise of discomforted pleasure under him when he rubs over the man's prostate or the pained clawing against the wooden floor. Not until he's fully seated in blissfully tight _heat_.

Only then does he bring the hand bathed in his kitten's scent up to rub Tajima's nose in it. As generous an alpha as Hashirama is, there are certain things he is _not_ inclined to share. And he's going to let the old tom know.

" _ **Mine**_ ," he snarls, hips drawing all the way back before he slams the full weight of his cock forward into the submitting feline.

* * *

Tobirama stares, eyes wide, at Madara who’s laying on the futon in the room on his stomach. There’s notably fewer feathers and even some that are broken in half. It’s quiet asides from the chirping of birds and the tell-tale _clunk_ of the bamboo fountain out in the garden. That is, until Madara grumbles at him.

“I can _feel_ you staring.”

Tobirama turns his head away and looks at the pretty painted screen. His ears twitch in Madara’s direction when he huffs.

“If you’re going to be in this room, at least make yourself useful. Get the dark brown book and bring it here.”

When Tobirama looks back at Madara, there’s dark eyes looking back. They look… _tired_. He continues to stare, taking in the way all that black hair with shimmery feathers in it is all twisted up. Because he’s watching, he notices Madara’s face turn sour before he drops his head onto his arms.

“ _Ugh_. I don’t know why I even bother.”

Madara doesn’t move after that, he doesn't speak, either. Very carefully and quietly, Tobirama pads over to the small table with all the _books_.

Dark brown, dark brown…

He perks up as his little hands grip the solid weight. Then he pads over to Madara, chirping a question and falling to sit next to him.

Madara jerks with a high-pitched, hoarse cheep that startles Tobirama.

“Ah, _fuck_ , ow,” Madara groans and thuds his head back down. “Fucking _cats_.”

Tobirama’s tail and ears are still very bushy when Madara turns his head tiredly towards him with an outstretched hand. Gingerly, Tobirama places the book in his hand.

“At least you got the right one.”

There’s a shuffle as Madara props himself up on his elbows to look at the book. He leans closer when the _page_ turns and there’s a _picture_. The book thumps backwards onto the floor and Madara looks over his shoulder at him.

Tobirama shys away, his tail curling around him and his ears drooping.

“Hashirama probably _reads_ to you, the big dumb softie.” Madara mumbles and sighs with his entire body. 

“I won’t read to you, but if you want to read over my shoulder—” Madara stops and gives Tobirama a look that Tobirama doesn’t like the look of. “Hang on, _can_ you even read?”

Madara traces one of the squiggly lines in the book next to the picture to bring Tobirama’s focus to it.

A moment passes and the finger traces the same line again and Tobirama blinks when he realizes that apparently the little squiggles _mean_ something.

Tobirama hunches in on himself and shakes his head at Madara.

“Huh.”

* * *

Madara, Tajima thinks as he’s scolded like some errant little kit, owes him _muchly_.

He came in here _knowing_ that Hashirama could turn violent, as any alpha does during rut, and demand his submission. But Tajima hasn’t been pinned by another alpha in a very, _very_ long time. It takes him a few tries to get his instincts to cooperate, but the scruff hold—again, like he’s some unruly kitten—rankles something _fierce_.

Oh sure, it helps keep Tajima in tune with his reactions, and helps remind him that he’s here to _help_ , but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Thankfully Tajima had enough foresight to prepare himself, so as not to wind up as bad as Madara. However the strong thrusts are enough to knock the wind out of him and he can only dig his nails into the floor and pant as Hashirama deems it necessary to release his hand in order to tighten his grip on Tajima’s hips.

Perhaps coming in here with Tobirama’s scent on him wasn’t a very smart decision, but the way Madara looked when he _crawled_ his way into the room made his paternal instincts flare and he had come immediately after getting the sake. So Tajima will bear the jabs to his pride and his body if it means his son can rest just that much longer.

Tajima’s never been manhandled this way, even when he was working full-time in the pleasure district as a young tom. Barring any other missteps, he hopes that his mostly submissive body language is enough to satisfy Hashirama.

His first post nap peak is always a quick race to the finish, and Hashirama reaches for it with grasping fingers and all the power of rested and well trained muscle. He's not gentle or considerate, fingers gripping with bruising strength as he fucks the tom.

His peak burns in his belly, coiling tight and weighing heavy, egged on by the smell of his omega on the alpha below him. He's jealous and waspish and high on testosterone, and there's nothing that can stop him from working the too-tight hole over his cock.

He pushes hard and deep with every thrust, relishing the gasped breaths under him, the slight noises of pain and the tang of blood in his mouth as teeth break thick scruff. His muscles are corded, highlighted with sweat and carved deep with shadow from the afternoon light leaking in.

He's toppling over the edge in no time, rutting madly, the smack of colliding skin filling the room over laboured breaths and the scrape of claws and elbows as Tajima is fucked along the floor like an alley slut. A final deep press and a bellow as he comes, lids fluttering and the scent of his omega wisping in the air.

Hashirama pants when he comes down from his high, withdrawing slowly and gently, licking an apology over the enormous bloody bite mark he's left on the back of Tajima's neck and purring soothingly. The tom is trembling under him, and he lays soothing kisses over broad shoulders as his cock comes free with a wet sucking noise and the patter of come onto the floor.

The back under him remains bowed, submissive, even when it tenses as Hashirama runs a rough palm over it. He eases the older alpha up, shoving away the dirty futon and dragging over a fresh one from the pile to lay Tajima on.

His ears dip in regret when the man flinches away infinitesimally, and Hashirama rumbles and lowers himself onto the older Uchiha. He can be free with kisses now in a way he simply _isn't_ with Madara, laying bloody smears of apology over a lean chest and a flat belly. Finally he moves in slowly, cupping Tajima's face and guiding their lips to meld together with a rumble of appreciation.

Hashirama rolls them, settles the alpha on his hips and reaches for a masu to fill with sake. He drinks most of it, pouring a little over Tajima's chest and licking it up off his nipples and chasing stray drops with his tongue before he guides clawed hands to his shoulders and stands.

His hands support the feline, and Hashirama eases Tajima back down onto his erection slowly and gently. Standing, supporting the man's weight easily, he begins to work his hips as thighs grip his waist, one hand on the lithe back and the other tweaking pebbled nipples as he uses his cockhead to massage the older alpha’s prostate.

Hashirama’s eyes are drawn to the fine face, the ears and the slit pupils blowing wide with pleasure as he kisses over prominent collar bones. It's an apology in the only way he can manage now.

The kiss is what brings Tajima back to the present. It’s metallic-tasting but slow, and Hashirama rumbles to him that Tajima replies with his own, much, much softer.

Perhaps the alcohol will keep Hashirama loose like this, in a calmer, less frantic state. Tajima can only hope as he shivers from the long, hot tongue on his chest.

It’s easier on his instincts, being on top despite the obvious way he’s sinking down onto Hashirama’s cock.

This time it’s, well, not _softer_ but certainly more focused on his own experience, rather than being a means to an end. Tajima croons his approval of the strong muscles lifting him up, flexing underneath his hands and thighs. There’s no doubt in Tajima’s mind that Hashirama’s gentleness is entirely because of his nearly savage way of taking him before.

His cock twitches where it’s laying against Hashirama’s abdomen, finally hard from the more pleasant stimulation. Having Hashirama near his neck sends a zing of fear through his body that incites more excitement than actual terror.

Hashirama has certainly gained many skills as he grew up and filled out, and in no time at all Tajima is gasping out as he spills over those wonderful muscles. He pants softly until Hashirama seals his lips in a kiss.

Pliant, it takes little effort for Hashirama to lay him down on his back, to start thrusting anew. A small sound escapes Tajima but Hashirama simply rumbles louder. Capitulation comes easier, now, and Tajima rides out the sturdy thrusts until Hashirama is groaning and twitching inside him.

“Perhaps, a wash and a short soak?” Tajima suggests.

It would be as much for him as for Hashirama, who surely is more tacky with dried come and sweat than him. Tajima cannot deny that even a short soak in the hotter waters that get pulled into the private baths in this hall will help him.

Hashirama sighs in agreement, keeps himself buried deep and lifts Tajima as easily as a paper swan. The furo is attached to the room for ease of access, and it's a simple matter of walking across the threshold and toeing the shoji open.

He seats himself on the stool, still hard inside the older alpha who fits so snugly on his lap, and busies himself with laying kisses and love bites over the pale chest before him, stroking the tom’s cock and tail as Tajima fills a bucket of hot water.

He lavishes attention on peaked nipples when he can, drawing the pink buds between his teeth and biting gently. A hot, wet cloth touches his shoulders, water stinging the scratches, and he growls as his lips meet Tajima's.

This kiss is utterly sinful, a sensual fucking of the Uchiha's mouth with Hashirama’s tongue and a miming of sucking his cock using Tajima's own tongue. The barbed cock twitches in his hand, and Hashirama strums the little hooks with his rough calluses.

_Insatiable_ , Tajima thinks as his mouth is thoroughly fucked shiny with spit by Hashirama. He’s left panting and clenching around Hashirama’s tapered and thick cock. It’s clear to him that Hashirama has had a feline hybrid before, because not many would know how to tug at the barbs and not cause discomfort at the same time.

Hashirama’s much more skilled than the last time Tajima helped him. Of course, the lack of drunkenness and being many years older explains that readily enough.

He purrs as Hashirama plays with his chest, his tail, his _nipples_ —

“Perhaps we should move to the water now.” It’s pitched low, a whisper against Hashirama’s own lips.

A smile curves against his lips.

* * *

Madara really and truly wants to hate this little kitten that has somehow wriggled his way into Hashirama’s _and_ Tajima’s hearts. And is apparently trying to worm his way into his own!

“Sa-Sa-ku-rrrrra?”

Damn it, Madara doesn’t _want_ to like the albino kitten, but Tobirama seems to turn the cuteness up to max just to spite him.

Madara should never have offered to teach him how to read. Tobirama rarely _talks_ but has fairly good pronunciation, save from the way he rolls his ‘r’ in a way not too dissimilar to his own father sometimes. And now that Madara has taught the kitten a few of the _kana_ , Tobirama seems intent to point out _every single one_ on each page.

It’s an obvious ploy for attention and praise.

That’s completely effective.

“Yes, ‘sakura’ is right.” Madara watches as Tobirama trills and perks up, sidling closer to him and exuding pleased, sweet honeymilk scent.

He watches as Tobirama scooches over so that he’s nearly sitting on _top_ of him, yet Tobirama seems content not to mention it at all. So Madara huffs and turns the page, biting down a yelp when Tobirama takes some unknown invitation to _jump on his back_ and lay down, his chin hooked over Madara’s shoulder.

Scratch everything, this kitten is just as annoying and terrible as his little brother combined with his father. _Ugh_.

* * *

Hashirama takes Tajima for a nice, long ride in the bath, pressed close and sharing heated kisses. He lets Tajima ride him, lying back on the wooden seating rim along the edge of the tub, rumbling at the scratch of claws against his chest. The next round sees the tom on his back, gasping as Hashirama takes him with legs splayed wide.

Eventually they make it back to the futon, and Hashirama sets a punishing pace to vault them to searing ecstasy. They fall asleep curled together, Hashirama’s cock buried deep and dribbling come.

The morning brings new vigour, and it isn't until lunch time that Hashirama stops fucking for water and a nap.

Tajima withholds his sigh of relief when Hashirama wobbles his way back onto the futon and is asleep as soon as his head touches it. His bones are sore, and the ache in his loins is far past the point of _pleasant_.

This is a young alpha’s game and Tajima is no young alpha any more.

But at least he can _walk_ out of the room.

With his soft feet he pads around the room and tidies it up a bit, ignoring how all he wants to do is sleep for the next three days. After he’s gathered up the used bedding and has refreshed the water, he opens the locked door and drops the soiled linens on the floor in order to bring in the tray of food the servants left out. It makes his mouth water, but he knows that all this food will help Hashirama more, and he can always get some now that he’s switching back out.

Wobbling, he makes his way back to his room, smiling tiredly as he listens to Madara...correct Tobirama. Ah, it seems the kitten’s charms worked their magic on his son.

Tobirama blinks up from his spot on Madara’s lap when Tajima opens the door. Immediately all thoughts of _reading_ are discarded and he shoves the book away where Madara’s holding it in front of him to jump up and mew pitifully at Tajima.

A hand ruffles his head and Tobirama pouts as Tajima addresses Madara.

“He’s asleep. Go eat and prepare yourself before you go in.”

“Fine, fine.” Madara sighs as he stands up. “I’ll tell them to bring something to you while I’m in the kitchens.”

Tobirama _feels_ the hum Tajima gives, and when Madara leaves the room, he trots hot on Tajima’s heels until he lays down on his side.

“Tajima… _help_ Hashirama? Like Madara?”

Those tired eyes open again and Tajima gives Tobirama another smile. “Yes kitten, I helped. Hashirama simply has too much energy for either one of us for more than a few days.”

Tobirama noses his way underneath one of Tajima’s arms to cuddle with the tired alpha to give him something to do instead of worry about Hashirama. He hasn’t gone back to _that_ side of the place and doesn’t plan to. Those rooms are eating people!

Whining, he snuggles deeper into Tajima’s side and waits for food to be brought.

* * *

Hashirama grunts, tail flicking as he noses deeper into the sheets before yawning and rolling onto his back. His cock throbs and twitches against his belly. He sneezes, licks his lips and scratches his flank, sniffing. And then he rolls into a crouch.

 _Tobirama_ is here, Hashirama can smell him. Movement catches his eye, and he pounces mindlessly, strong legs carrying him across the room in a blink. The heat of another body is pressed against his front, and an indignant squawk.

The alpha who smells as though he's rolled against Tobirama freezes at his enraged snarl against the soft skin of a bare neck. A peacock train swishes against the floor as Madara flattens it in fear that fills Hashirama’s nose.

His hand fists in Madara's hair, and he forces them both to their knees. The yukata is torn away, and Hashirama lines up and rams in without prior warning. A screech only serves to spur Hashirama on and he forces Madara's face to the floor and roars his dominance.

He digs his teeth into the flesh of Madara's shoulder until he tastes metal. Let this be a lesson, Tobirama is _his_ and Hashirama won't shy away from defending his territory.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Madara hisses as Hashirama ruts into him without restraint.

He’s probably going to wind up with bruises on his _face_ from how hard Hashirama is pushing him onto the floor. The preparations he made are well worth it, since it seems as though it’s going to be just as rough—if not rougher—than earlier this week.

Withholding a snarl as the skin and muscle of his shoulder give way to Hashirama’s sharp fangs, Madara does his best to stay relaxed and submissive. There’s a time for pushing, for prodding and being a brat, but now is _not_ that time. Not when Hashirama is this far into his rut and instincts. Not when he’s acting as though Madara encroached onto his territory and needs to defend.

There’s a _pop_ and a zing of pain followed by numbness down his left leg and Madara grits his teeth. The hands on his hips shift and he can’t help the hurt squawk as Hashirama jostles his dislocated hip.

Madara really, really hates Hashirama sometimes.

Another growl, louder this time, and, with a particularly brutal thrust that sends pain down _both_ his legs, Madara cries out as Hashirama pushes his leg back into its socket.

A wracking sob makes its way out of his mouth as the pain reaches a peak. He’s still soft, the pain not the type of pleasurable pain he likes. But Madara knows Hashirama doesn’t care about that, not right now.

Hashirama’s so pumped up on testosterone and territorial claim that eventually it all becomes a blur of movement and sensation, a push and pull not unlike katas. There's red and black and the swirls of tails and flicking ears and voices.

Tajima and Madara flash in front of his eyes, one and then the other, blurring together and swapping during the blinks of his naps until it's like watching a battle from behind shutters flickering open and closed.

Under it all is the scent of his omega, always filling his senses and always out of reach. Eventually, near the end of his rut when he's starved and exhausted and delirious, keening relentlessly for his kitten, Hashirama crashes.

He beats himself bloody against the door until the wood around the lock and hinges gives, oblivious to Madara or Tajima tugging at him. He stumbles down the hallway naked and sticky with a mix of sweat, blood and come, shoving guards and blades aside until at last there is a pale island in the sea of red and black.

He collapses on it, curling up close and hunkering down to breathe the scent he needs from the small source. His cock is still hard, unsatisfied with the two alphas, but Hashirama is content at last.

He mutters Tobirama’s name in a voice so hoarse it doesn't make a sound, and passes out.

* * *

Tobirama’s breathing is still too fast, his instincts scrambling to determine whether to _get away and hide_ or _roll onto his stomach_ —

But the confusion only makes him tremble and shake, mewling as Madara and Tajima rush to reach him from where he’s half-buried underneath Hashirama. A very hurt, messy and _smelly_ Hashirama. The scents alone are making Tobirama meow and want to squirm away.

“Shh, shh, Tobirama it’s okay, it’s okay, he’s asleep, stop moving!”

Tobirama whimpers and his free hand clutches at Tajima’s yukata, claws digging in and holding.

Hashirama’s face is buried in Tobirama’s neck and shoulder, forcing his chin up. It’s uncomfortable in a sense that it makes his ears droop and his tail tuck close. It’s _vulnerable_ and having Hashirama in such a state do such a thing is frightening.

“Help, help? Help!” Tobirama drags at the fabric under his claws and Tajima shushes him more.

“It’s alright kitten. I’m here, Madara’s here, we’re going to help you but you need to breathe.”

Madara’s the one to get the cloth and water from the hall. Small droplets of water run off of Hashirama’s broad frame and land on him. They soak into his yukata and all Tobirama can do is mew and rip further holes into Tajima’s clothing.

Tobirama isn’t sure how long it takes, but eventually the confusing mix of scents mellow out.

Tajima croons down at Tobirama as the small kitten trembles. He’s ever thankful that Hashirama seems to be winding down, and he’s not proud of it, but he thought for sure that Hashirama was going to rape the poor thing.

He’s sure Madara thought so, too.

But aside from scaring poor Tobirama with how suddenly he burst into the room and pinned him down, Tobirama seems unhurt. Well, he’s certainly panicking a little, and doesn’t enjoy getting _wet_ , but Tajima can’t fault him for that. It takes several fresh buckets of water, but finally they cleaned up what they could reach of Hashirama.

To help with the lingering smells, they light the same incense they use for airing out the rooms. Tajima is thankful that the yukata he threw on the moment he heard Hashirama storming around isn’t one he’s particularly attached to. Tobirama’s little nails have shredded a good portion of it.

Tajima takes a look at the kitten, who is now asleep as the adrenaline has finally worn off, and sighs. He should make sure food is ready when Hashirama wakes up.

* * *

Hashirama crawls out of the blackness of bone deep exhaustion, rising sluggishly to muted afternoon oranges and the scent of honey milk and something else that seems caught in the shift of development. It's still undeniably _omega_ , undeniably _Tobirama_ , and it's dirtied with the smell of blood and sweat and come.

He jolts, heart pounding and hands shaking with hunger and fear. Hashirama’s so starved, that the moment he sits up a spell of light-headedness strikes and he almost falls flat on his back.

"Kitten?" He croaks, black dimming his vision. _Oh gods what have I done_.

Tobirama startles awake when Hashirama jerks next to him. Then he wrinkles his nose when the stale scents waft up.

“Hashirama! Tobirama help?” Tobirama leans over to grab the rag in the bucket next to the bed.

After attempting to squish the cloth to make it stop dripping so much, he quickly turns and slaps it against Hashirama’s belly, where there’s all sorts of dirt. Hashirama yelps and Tobirama’s ears flick back.

“Cold water bad but no hot water here.” Tobirama explains as he rubs the cloth, watching as some dirty water dribbles down.

As soon as Tobirama leans back over to drop the rag into the water to clean it, Hashirama moves. And it’s to grab Tobirama in a bruising hug.

Tobirama mewls and wriggles a little bit, unsure.

“Hashirama?”

"I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to—I just, I lost control and I could smell you on Madara and Tajima and I couldn't _find_ you! I'm so sorry for doing that, for hurting you like that Tobirama, please—"

He's not sobbing, the pain and guilt is far too strong for that. Hashirama cries fat, silent tears as he apologises again and again for doing something unspeakable to a boy whose life and wellbeing were placed in his care.

He doesn’t care about the freezing water or his naked skin.

A confused trill works its way out of Tobirama as Hashirama _apologizes_.

“I not hurt. Hashirama?” Tobirama wriggles more, squirming until he can finally look up at Hashirama’s sad face.

Hashirama is also _crying_ which alarms him more than the fact he’s apologizing. Tobirama is glad he stayed away from those rooms. They’re _evil_ , and Tajima, Madara, and now _Hashirama_ are all looking like they got really, really hurt.

As soon as Tobirama opens his mouth again to ask if Hashirama is okay, the door opens and he listens to Tajima walk in.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Hashirama.”

Tajima walks into Tobirama’s field of view and he can see the food he’s carrying. He perks up because there’s _onigiri_ and that might have salted salmon in it again!

Hashirama’s grip relaxes enough that Tobirama can scooch and turn around so he’s sitting between Hashirama’s crossed legs with his long, strong arms draped around his shoulders.

He waits impatiently as Tajima looks at Hashirama, his tail lashing because he’s _hungry_ but he doesn’t want to speak.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself too much, Hashirama. None of _that_ happened.”

Curious, Tobirama tilts his head and trills out in a question that goes unanswered as Hashirama continues to stare at Tajima.

Hashirama almost collapses with the wash of relief that rushes through his system. He doesn't think, doesn't do anything but breathe a few deep breaths and be grateful.

"Thank you, Tajima-sama."

Hashirama's voice cracks a little, but he ignores it in favour of lifting an onigiri up and depositing it in Tobirama’s hands.

"Itadakimasu," he murmurs, kissing Tobirama’s dandelion hair and looking up just in time to see the flash of pain in Madara's eyes as he walks in.

"Madara," he greets, ears falling in regret, "I'm so sorry. To both of you, for my poor behaviour. I hope you can find it in yourselves to forgive me."

He bows his head and only reaches for his food when Madara makes a noise of acceptance.

Tajima watches as Tobirama murmurs out a cute thanks and begins eating before he looks up and acknowledges Hashirama.

“I do hope you haven’t forgotten that my son and I are alphas as well. Though I’m far past my prime, and Madara isn’t _quite_ so entrenched in certain instincts. Instincts are rather powerful things, after all…” Tajima trails off, giving a pointed look towards a happily oblivious Tobirama.

When he looks back, those brown eyes have narrowed. Tajima simply raises a disinterested brow because really, he’s _much_ too old to want to keep up with a feisty little kitten who’s rapidly developing. Especially not an omega. If it wasn’t for the way Tobirama’s scent has started blooming, Tajima wouldn’t know any better because the boy is far smaller than he should be.

But the look on Hashirama’s face simultaneously puts him on edge and calms him. At least the kitten has a strong alpha to look after him.

“You’re welcome here anytime, Hashirama.”

“Father!” Madara hisses out.

“ _Any_ time.” Tajima smirks at Madara as his tail feathers ruffle. Madara knows that this is as much _his_ house as Madara’s. Which is why Madara’s protest is only a front.

Of course, Tajima knows Madara is hurt, as he always is when he and Hashirama interact. Seeing Hashirama with an _omega_ , and having such a strong enough drive that he _broke out of the room_ to find him—Madara’s bound to feel jealous and hurt.

But Tajima also knows that Madara’s suffered worse, and that, despite saying otherwise, Madara actually enjoys teaching the little kitten.

“The bath is all yours at your leisure. Eat and rest. Another guest room is getting set up for you two.” Far be it from Tajima to allow guests to stay in such a soiled room.


	5. Chapter 5

Days, weeks go by and Tobirama follows Hashirama the entire time.

Tobirama loves traveling with Hashirama. He sees sights he never would have imagined, and soaks in the attention that Hashirama gives him. Learning to read is pleasurable, if only because Hashirama rumbles in a pleased way when Tobirama is able to read a page of the poetry from that small book with little help.

Hashirama tells him that he’s growing so fast, and they frequently shop for different clothing for him to wear. Tobirama doesn’t understand the appeal of it all, but he allows Hashirama to make the decisions for him.

His _problem_ with his lower parts only seems to get worse as time goes by, and he learns to wear and accept the fundoshi and the few pairs of _panties_ that Hashirama has given him. Tobirama doesn’t have a preference; they help conceal what he wants them to and that’s that.

Of course, in addition to _those_ problems, his sense of smell grows more sensitive, too. He’s smelling _Hashirama_ and learning what different nuances of his scent mean. He finds himself tilting his nose to scent the air and following the person with his eyes, curious.

Privately, when Hashirama is off having _sex_ and pleasuring others, he looks at his own body and pinches the fat on his hips and chest that don’t seem like they’re going to be leaving any time soon. He pouted the first time he noticed the change.

And now is one of those moments where Tobirama has the room all to himself— because he _saw_ Hashirama prowl after the nice smelling cook—and he lays on the futon naked, still flushed warm from the bath.

Hashirama loves his kitten. It's pointless to deny, particularly here in his mind where there is no one to witness it. Tobirama has grown into a witty, intelligent little rascal, and Hashirama falls deeper and deeper every day.

He loves to read, and Hashirama enjoys teaching him. His hands are steady and skilled, and they're slowly becoming more and more acquainted with the brush. He's even picked up _painting_ , of all things, something Hashirama is only moderately good at.

The problem, however, is that like all kittens, he's growing up. He wears _panties_ now, which are Hashirama’s guilty pleasure. There's nothing quite like seeing his kitten in red silk. Which Hashirama may or may not discreetly _borrow_ to bury his nose in when he strokes himself, chasing the scent of the boy's pussy.

 _That_ is the real problem. His kitten is coming into his dynamic, and Hashirama is suffering for it. He wakes to the scent of honeyed vanilla, stronger with less of the childish milkyness every day. The budding scent of _fertility_ that leaves him hard every morning. And he's not the only one who can smell it.

More than once he's loomed over Tobirama, staring down an alpha who has turned to trail after his kitten. It hardly helps that Tobirama seems content to be open in his interest, _lifting his tail_ at passers by that seem to catch his interest.

Hashirama will admit to having trouble controlling his reactions. He's...a little possessive, and takes neither the challenge (however brief) nor the disregard very well. Which is why he's here.

The cook pants over him, a beautiful badger with ample curves, fucking herself on his tongue, hands on his antlers. She's a distraction, just as much as she is a momentary indulgence. He pinches her clit, smiling when she gushes for him and humming as he drinks her pleasure.

He leaves her to sleep off a dozen orgasms next to the irori, adjusting his hard cock openly in the darkness of the hallway. He's just slipped open the door, Tobirama’s panties collected from next to it, when he's met with the very subject of his desires.

The kitten is spread over his futon, bare skin cream pale and flushed from the bath Hashirama knows he must've just had. His breasts and ass have filled out, becoming subtle curves on a lean body. Tobirama is barely thirteen, and Hashirama is already slavering for him.

He slides the door closed silently behind him, eyes on where Tobirama is absorbed in exploring himself, and brings the scrap of fabric up to his nose.

A purr gets startled out of him as his hand runs along the crease of his hip and bumps into his cocklet. Tobirama watches curiously as it grows underneath his light petting. An experimental squeeze leaves him panting. Something goes _squish_ and Tobirama moves his fingers _lower_ —

He keens at the first touch to the hot, swollen flesh there. Squeezes his eyes and turns his head to bare his neck at the second and third touches.

“Nnngh.” Tobirama bites his lip when his finger _dips in_ and he presses in after a moment.

His ears and tail stand up, alert and trembling. A sort of purring growl builds in his throat and he’s helpless to stop the noise from escaping as he pulls his finger out before pushing it back in again.

A breath.

And then Tobirama’s making that same sound, the feeling of _right_ as he does settling in his bones. Purrs come in intermittently as the rest of that hand brushes up against his cocklet and his other comes up to pat and play with his chest.

Tobirama buries his face further into the futon, panting as his whole body feels nice and tingly.

Hashirama’s horrible, traitorous, no good erection _leaps_ at the little mews and yowls. Honestly, if Tobirama isn't careful every tom and alpha is going to be climbing the walls to reach this room. He should really teach the kitten to be quiet.

He could also teach him the joy of _other_ things— _no Hashirama! Not yet_. But if not now, then _when_. When the first alpha gets brave enough to reach out and touch instead of smiling and blushing like they're doing now? When it's Tobirama’s first _real_ kiss? His first grope? His first _fuck_?!

 _No_ , he decides, _now is best_.

Hashirama tosses the panties into the pile of washing outside and closes the door. The room is saturated with the scent of omega male—of _aroused_ Tobirama, and Hashirama gulps to stop himself from stripping and devouring the boy.

"Kitten," he husks, padding close slowly, eyes carefully trained on Tobirama’s face.

Tobirama’s eyes snap open as he hears _Hashirama_. His hands don’t move away but they do stop.

“Hashirama?” Tobirama wouldn’t be able to stop his ears from twitching or his tail from curling up even if his life depended on it.

Because, because Hashirama smells _really_ good, and all Tobirama can think of is having those hands, that mouth, on him. Like they used to before the touches suddenly stopped. He continues to tremble, the thrill of being _caught_ by Hashirama making him clench around his finger inside him.

Perhaps Hashirama has been waiting for Tobirama to ask?

“Kiss me?” Tobirama whispers. "Please?"

He shouldn't. Or rather, with Tobirama as his wakashu, he really _really_ should and it's far too tempting to take him where he lies which is why Hashirama has to be a responsible adult despite how much his body is behaving like that or a horny teenager.

"Alright," because he _is_ a responsible adult and he will give his kitten a safe outlet. Hashirama keeps his eyes studiously on Tobirama’s face and thanks Butsuma for the unflappable mentor he was, which Hashirama’s been doing his best to emulate. It's very difficult now.

He stretches out next to the kitten, the scent of omega pussy heavy in every breath, and leans in.

Tobirama’s lips are sinfully soft against his own, and Hashirama can't stop the deep groan of desire that escapes him as he cups his kitten's cheek and melds their lips together. His tongue slips in, eagerly awaited, and Hashirama’s hips rock against the futon.

Tobirama purrs as Hashirama’s lips meet his, as he opens his mouth and tastes Hashirama. It makes a new wave of that _warm_ feeling spread through his body. He really, _really_ wants Hashirama’s hands on him.

A little wriggling and he frees his hand that was on his chest and paws at Hashirama until he finds a hand. It’s made difficult because Tobirama refuses to stop leaning into the kiss and open his eyes.

But eventually he tugs on the hand cupping his face and pants for air as the kiss ends. Opening his eyes, he stares up unashamed at Hashirama.

“Want your touch, Hashirama.” A strong pull on Hashirama’s hand and it finally goes with his own.

Tobirama’s breath hitches and his eyes flutter as the solid weight of Hashirama’s hand smoothes down his neck and Tobirama files _that_ particular discovery away to explore later. Hashirama’s thumb rubbing gently on his throat makes him shiver.

However, Tobirama wants Hashirama’s hands _lower_ , and keeps tugging until the hand rests over one of the swells on his chest. He feels coiled up tight, like the rope Hashirama keeps in his pack—or like a teapot about to boil. It’s so much but not enough and Tobirama _wants_ Hashirama here, wants him touching and kissing.

One ear goes back in apprehension, but Hashirama complies with his kitten's wish. Tobirama is far less shy about speaking his mind now. He doesn’t talk a _lot_ —Hashirama knows he never will, but he does speak honestly.

"Mmh, kitten, you're being demanding today," he chuckles, hoping it covers the deep lusty thrum of his voice and the way his hips pitch forward. It has to, if Tobirama finds so much as a needle hole in his control he'll work at it relentlessly.

All the same, capitulation is easy, and he palms the small mound of Tobirama’s breast, brushing a calloused thumb over a peaked pink nipple before pinching firmly. His kitten responds well, a purring mrow rolling between them.

He'd noticed Tobirama’s little shiver of delight at the hand against his neck, and Hashirama takes advantage of the knowledge of the sensitive glands there and leans down to kiss and teethe them.

Tobirama keens as Hashirama nips and licks along his neck. It’s involuntary, the way he tilts his head and arches to press further into Hashirama. The purring growl is back, in stuttered little bursts as Tobirama pants.

Then he starts moving his finger again, writhing and pressing up against Hashirama as any and all words escape him. His hips jerk opposite his hand and his palm keeps rubbing against his cocklet, causing bright flashes of _really good_.

Whining, Tobirama presses his hand against the breast that Hashirama’s not touching. The tension builds and builds and suddenly Hashirama _bites_ and Tobirama cries out.

He jerks and can’t quite decide if he wants to arch further into Hashirama or stop completely. The strange sensation lasts for what feels like hours, and Tobirama whimpers as it all starts to fade, leaving him breathless and shaky but also floaty and very, very happy. His purr is loud, only broken up by the gasp he makes when he pulls his finger out of his pussy.

The finger finds its way into his mouth, and Tobirama lazily sucks on it, eyes half-lidded and tail flicking, satisfied.

Tobirama's come sticky finger slips into his mouth, and Hashirama can't withstand the sigh of it. He huffs, hips jerking against the futon as he's forced over the edge by the image of his kitten licking up his slick.

Hashirama comes untouched in his pants like an inexperienced teenager, grunting and bucking through his release, nose pressed against Tobirama's neck.

Sleepily, Tobirama rubs his chin on the top of Hashirama's head as he purrs. He kneads Hashirama, content to fall asleep right then and there. Who needs a blanket when Hashirama is here and he feels so nice and warm?

He'll just nap for a little bit. It's comfortable with Hashirama right next to him.

* * *

A loud chirp sounds out and Tobirama takes a quick breath in. Stretching and yawning, he figures he must have slept much, much longer than expected. Hashirama isn't even in the room, which could only mean he's out getting them breakfast.

In well practiced moves, he dresses himself in his kimono, his flexibility meaning he doesn't need help in securing his obi. And since Hashirama has yet to return, he busies himself with opening the window and settles down for some painting by the morning light. The top of a sakura tree sways just outside the window, providing both inspiration and distraction as petals fall.

Tobirama decides to write a poem about the sakura, to go along with his painting. It seems fitting.

His hair is starting to get long enough to get in his eyes, but he thinks it'll be worth it to grow it out, so he can put it up completely.

Hashirama is glad he went to work out his tensions. He'd found a very nice bear omega female who, although big enough to be imposing to most alphas, had been more than a head shorter than him.

All the same, what really matters is that he's finally managed to empty his balls inside a hot cunt. She'd been in a little discomfort and had lain sated like a boneless fish once he'd finished, but there's no relief quite like it.

He's just walking into the street of their inn when he sees the gathering of all sexes under his window. The window his kitten is sitting in, framed in gold by afternoon sunshine, glowing with light and bleeding the scent of omega out into the open air.

 _I think it's time we found him a weapon_ , he grumbles to himself as he shoos away the rabble.

"Hashirama!" Tobirama perks up and stands gracefully.

Ears and tail alert, he pads over to the other and trills happily as he catches sight of large, red cherries in Hashirama's hands.

Hashirama seems tense, so Tobirama trills some more, lifting his tail and curling it until Hashirama's scent does the funny thing that Tobirama knows means he _likes_ it, and is feeling happier.

Once that's settled, Tobirama happily settles back down at the table, shifting his ink and brush and paper away to make room for lunch. It's a quick affair and Tobirama eagerly bites into the cherries for dessert, licking his lips to keep the sweet juices from dripping. He hums as he eats the delicious fruit.

Hashirama makes a noise, and his scent waivers enough that Tobirama blinks and tilts his head, but only gets Hashirama shaking his head in response.

When Tobirama makes to move his painting back towards him, Hashirama stops him and tells him that they're going to go someplace today. Curiosity blooms easily enough inside him, so Tobirama chirps and happily makes to leave, ignoring the sandals that Hashirama has put out for him because of the warmer weather. Why put on sandals when it's much better to just walk barefoot?

* * *

Although he's grown accustomed to Genma, Tobirama much prefers to walk, and is very relieved that wherever they're going they're walking to.

Giggles escape him when cherry blossoms fall on him and cause his ears and nose to twitch. With a smile, he turns and reaches up and, when Hashirama bends down a lot, places a bloom at the base of Hashirama's newly grown antlers.

"Look good, Hashirama." Tobirama says with a smile before facing back where they're walking.

It doesn't take them long to get to the bank of the river that flows next to the town. Tobirama watches the small fish dart around in the shallows as they walk along the edge.

The scent of smoke and sound of clanging turn his attention away from the fish. There's a small building but a huge area just next to it that has...scarecrows? scattered around. There's people yelling and moving around inside the fenced off area.

Carefully, Tobirama takes a half-step closer towards Hashirama.

Hashirama is grateful that he's too tall for Tobirama to see how his cheeks pink at the compliment. It's unusual for him to receive such soft gestures, given that he's a samurai and at least two heads taller than most other people.

Hashirama settles a hand on the kitten's head and encourages him forward with a few scratches at the base of his ears. The forges are always busy, but they're not here to have a weapon _made_. They're here to buy. Hashirama needs to see what he likes and what will suit him best before he takes Tobirama to the same smith sensei took him to.

The smith is a busy badger with scarred hands who hardly looks at them before waving at an idle apprentice to see to them.

Hashirama asks him for wooden training weapons fit for an onna-bugeisha.

Tobirama is surprised that they’re here for _him_. The person has brought out several wooden weapons he has no names for, and he looks at Hashirama with uncertainty. When all he gets is encouragement, he reaches out and isn’t ready for the weight and the tip of the sword immediately drops to the ground, startling him.

There’s a few chuckles and Tobirama’s tail refuses to smooth out, even after he’s helped to hold the weapon correctly. It’s quickly replaced, however, with progressively shorter and shorter blades until the piece of wood is barely longer than his forearm and similar in style to the smaller sword that Hashirama carried.

The _wakizashi_ doesn’t feel very comfortable, despite it’s easier weight and the lack of threat of an actual cutting edge. When he’s handed the _naginata_ , it feels better, the long pole able to be grasped and held different ways.

It’s comfortable enough that he’s excited to be shown how to swing it, but again, the blade at the tip must be manipulated in certain directions and ways. The disappointment and frustration mounts as he can’t just _get over_ whatever’s blocking him from using these weapons. And Hashirama is standing _right there_ , and Tobirama feels even worse when all he’s doing is observing.

The apprentice is also annoyed because Tobirama keeps shying away from the weapons and not willing to give most of them even a cursory swing.

The naginata was the closest he’s gotten to feeling _right_ with a weapon.

Tobirama sulks as the apprentice walks back to the building, claiming to know what might _suit him best_. He can’t even look in Hashirama’s direction, too afraid of the disappointment he might find there.

The apprentice comes back with varying lengths of wood, not too dissimilar to a naginata without the blade.

“Forgive us for not having adequate representation for bo; these are an approximation of the staff weapons, but ultimately aren’t the same, since these will wind up becoming naginata and yari.”

Tobirama looks at the _bo_ and picks the long, unbroken piece of wood up. As he’s running his hands over the length, the apprentice speaks to Hashirama again.

“They can be made of bamboo, should the weight prove to be an issue, should a full-length bo suit him.”

Hashirama’s hum filters into his mind, but Tobirama’s more focused on the staff, on flexing his hands over the wood and he chirps as he moves towards the bamboo striking post.

“Ah, wait—”

Hashirama shushes the apprentice and Tobirama’s ear flicks back at the noise.

But then he grips the staff and lets his instinct guide how he strikes. The solid _thunk_ sounds out and he feels the vibrations through his entire arm, all the way up to his shoulders. Tobirama perks up at the sound, his tail curling happily.

Hashirama gives his kitten an approving rumble that carries across the field, and he smiles when Tobirama comes back to butt the softness of his hair against Hashirama’s crossed arms. He can tell that this is the weapon for his young queen, purely by watching the boy hold it.

He's not angry with Tobirama for being a hard customer to please. Hashirama is glad that, unlike him, Tobirama knows what he wants. He tells the kitten as much, and whispers that his sensei made him try and train with every last weapon.

They leave with two pairs of tanbo, short batons perfect for his kitten until they can find a full length staff, and a wakizashi. He will learn how to use a bladed weapon in the meantime.

The following morning he drags his kitten, accustomed to sleeping in for the most part, out of bed at dawn to watch him train.

* * *

Tobirama isn't very _happy_ when he gets dragged out of bed. His warning growl and hiss didn't deter Hashirama at all. It only got him scruffed.

Which is why he's here, in an open field, tail angrily lashing as he attempts to mimic the motions Hashirama just demonstrated. He still doesn't fully like the wakizashi, but the smaller size means it's easier for him to handle.

Slowly, with each repetition of the forms—the _kata_ —Tobirama finds himself losing the anger because his tail moving so much is throwing off his balance. Instead, it begins to move as a counterpoint, as a balancing guide that helps him shift from stance to stance.

Tobirama forgets everything exists except for the ground he's stepping on, the sun warming him, himself, and the wakizashi. As he takes a deep breath to transition back into the first form again, Hashirama calls for him.

It startles him enough that he drops the wakizashi. He hastily picks it up and dusts it off as he pads over to Hashirama with an embarrassed trill. Only then, as he gets ear scratches he leans up into, does he realize that the sun is much, much higher than before.

"Every morning kata?" Tobirama asks as they start walking back to the inn for what Tobirama hopes is a nice bath and breakfast. "Kata with _tanbo_ too?"

"Yes," he says eventually, as they're stripping for a bath, "every morning we shall practice kata together. When you have grown proficient in them, we will spar together. You will learn other weapons, but there is time yet before I demand that of you, time for you to grow."

Hashirama reaches over to ruffle the boy's hair, a hand coming up to rub the velvet of his antlers and pluck the flower from his hair. Tobirama chirrups when he places it among the fuzzy, constantly fluffed up strands there, and Hashirama smiles at him indulgently.

They settle into the bath, each bound to their own world, and Hashirama lets his eye be drawn to the softness in Tobirama’s face that has grown. He's coming into his sex, and it's...distracting. Hashirama will have a hard time turning away from him this coming autumn.

More pressing concerns are Tobirama’s coming of age; he will go into heat soon. He's been paying more attention to Hashirama, demanding touch as a spoilt house cat would, pressing against his body and curling his tail.

Hashirama yawns, stretching in the hot water and rolling over to rest on his forearms. There's a mew behind him, fingers along his back, trailing against the smooth skin of scars.

"What is it, kitten?"

“So many…” Tobirama trails off as he runs his hands down the large expanse of Hashirama’s back in interest. His hands spread open, covering a large mass of slightly raised, shimmering, overlapping lines. “Did hurt you?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer—already knowing it from the way Hashirama’s shoulders tense—and simply leans forward and places a light kiss over all the scars he can reach. It takes more kisses for the tension to leave, and by then, Tobirama’s well aware of his position, sitting astride Hashirama’s back, sensitive cocklet standing up and brushing against skin under the water.

Squirming, Tobirama shuffles a little closer, a mewl sounding out as he rolls his hips. His arms don’t quite reach, but he still attempts to stretch them up and around Hashirama’s shoulders as he stretches himself out on Hashirama’s back. Tobirama purrs, unable to stop his small little thrusts and thinking that it could only get better if his back wasn’t halfway out of the hot water.

Hashirama doesn’t move, which is just fine by Tobirama. He can feel the thick weight of Hashirama’s tail dragging along the inside of his legs. With another jerk of his hips, he whines, nuzzling his face along the wet skin of his sensei as the nice, tingly feeling spreads throughout his body. He continues rubbing his chin as his whole body falls lax, only being supported by Hashirama’s body.

Hashirama is terribly tempted to turn around and love on his kitten, but he knows better by now than to make it difficult for himself. Resisting Tobirama as he is is already hard enough, he doesn't need to push himself.

Instead he sinks deeper into the water, curving his back into a comfortable dip for the boy as he falls into a light sated doze. He'll need to get them both somewhere safe in preparation for Tobirama’s first heat. Somewhere the boy can nest.

He considers taking them up towards the mountains, into the quiet land of rice paddies and secluded farm houses. They would be safe there; Hashirama could rent a farmhouse away from other alphas and endure his kitten’s first heat tucked away from danger.

But the problem remains; _Hashirama_ himself will be there. He will be there to tempt and tease Tobirama with his very nature, and he doesn't want to cause the boy unnecessary pain. As loath as he is to consider it, they will have to go elsewhere.

To Madara's. Tobirama will be free to nest there, and the heat rooms are secluded enough to keep him safe from other alphas and Hashirama himself. Ultimately it's not his decision.

When they return to their room and Tobirama sneaks under his blanket to curl up at his side, Hashirama explains the situation and asks for his opinion.

Tobirama listens carefully as Hashirama speaks with such a serious tone. Feelings of excitement and nervousness dual inside him, because as much as he would love to go to the city again, to see Madara and Tajima…

“Hashirama be there, too?” Tobirama whispers his question—his insecurity—into the broad chest he’s curled next to.

While he knows _some_ parts of what Hashirama explained to him as ‘an inevitable change,’ Tobirama is still unsure, still _afraid_ of what’s going to happen. And whether that _change_ will make Hashirama not want him around anymore. After all this time, however, Tobirama’s able to push down that little thought easier, but it still lingers, fueled by the way Hashirama seems to be distancing himself.

Annoyed at the weird, swirling feelings inside him, Tobirama leans up, shifting until he’s leaning over Hashirama’s chest, peering down in the darkness at his face.

“Want Hashirama there—mmmrr—to… _protect_.” The word tastes _good_ , and so Tobirama repeats himself. “Hashirama protect.”

Tobirama watches with bated breath, ears pricked up and forward and his tail lifting up. Hashirama’s hand rubs circles on his side but Tobirama suspects that Hashirama’s not even aware he’s doing it. It feels nice though, however Tobirama isn’t going to let himself be distracted.

Hashirama’s ears turn back with nervous guilt as he looks down at his kitten. He was afraid of this, of the deep, roaring instinct inside him that tells him _yes, yes, yes_ , that insists he assuage Tobirama lusts by bathing him in sexual attentions.

"I will be there, I will protect you," he agrees, "but I cannot go with you. It's not safe. _I'm_ not safe, not for you as you will be then. You will change, and it will change things between us. I will be there when you come out, and you will never look at me the same way again."

He leans down, pressing his forehead against Tobirama's, scratching behind his ears and enjoying the silky fur there.

 _Things have already changed_ , he thinks as the overwhelming urge to kiss his kitten takes hold. Tobirama wants Hashirama to protect him, and Hashirama will do so, but he's not naive enough to think he is anything but the biggest threat to his kitten’s wellbeing.

Tobirama is so small, so fragile. Despite his growing body, he still tucks neatly up against Hashirama’s torso.

"I can't afford a mistake on my part. It would break you— _I_ would break you, my soft little kitten."

Insecurity flairs inside Tobirama again and his ears slam flat against his head. Not even the very nice feeling scratches help. His lip wobbles a few times as his tail lashes back and forth as he tries to contain his emotions and the burning behind his eyes.

“Won’t,” Tobirama starts, voice quivering, “Won’t— _change_.”

Tobirama doesn’t understand. Doesn’t know how to feel as Hashirama tells him that he _will_ change, that _Hashirama_ might hurt him. Because Tobirama knows that’s not true, knows Hashirama won’t _ever_ hurt him!

The insecurity morphs quickly into a weeping anger, and he turns himself around so Hashirama won’t see the tears fall. But when Hashirama attempts to take the arm back that Tobirama’s pulled over himself, Tobirama digs his claws in and holds firm.

“Won’t break.” Tobirama sniffles. “You good, and, and _care_ —”

He clings to the arm wrapped around him as he sniffles and tries to stop his shaking, wiping the tears from his face with wet little sounds. Vaguely he attempts to continue talking, to try and find the _words_ to describe the way he feels to—and _for_ —Hashirama.

Ultimately all he’s able to do is cling, desperately chinning the large hand in his grasp, sobs breaking up his overcompensating purring until he finds escape through sleep.

* * *

It's the ache that wakes him, the pain of his turgid erection, pulsing and throbbing between his legs. Hashirama hefts a sleepy, tired sigh, nuzzling the soft ball of kitten in his arms when Tobirama shifts sleepily.

For a moment Hashirama considers waking Tobirama for his kata, but when he sees the small frown maring the soft look of sleep, he decides otherwise. Tobirama was deeply upset last night, perhaps it would be best if he were to lie in. Just for today.

Hashirama gets up slowly, careful not to disturb the restless omega, smiling as Tobirama rolls to chase his warmth. It stirs a desire in him that is quickly becoming all too familiar, and Hashirama has to tear himself away before he does something foolish.

The rising sun finds him meditating on the river bank, at ease with the water at his back and the quickly warming black pebbles between himself and the engawa.

Tobirama wakes up a little tired, but ultimately in a better mood than when he fell asleep. As he takes his time stretching, he sluggishly realizes that Hashirama _didn’t_ wake him up for morning _kata_.

Suddenly he’s up, looking around the room but finding no trace of Hashirama save for the pack that’s still in the corner. The sun is high enough that Tobirama _should_ be out practicing, and the words from last night, the fears, come back and he scrambles.

The scent trail is just faint enough that he struggles to follow it, but he finally makes it to the back engawa, seeing Hashirama several meters away, by the river. His relief makes his whole body sag, and he steps off the engawa, intent on either curling up next to Hashirama. He makes it three steps before the heat of the small pebbles causes him to hiss and retreat to the safely _warm_ wood.

Glaring at the pebbles that have thwarted him, he pulls his legs to his chest and plops his head down on his knees as he pouts. Maybe there is some merit to those stupid sandal things.

But he stares at Hashirama’s big back and waits. He definitely isn’t letting Hashirama out of his _sight_ anytime soon.

Hashirama is slow to rise out of his meditation, sluggish with something almost like sleep. He feels better now. His erection has faded to a warm pulse in his belly, which he knows will linger until he finds release.

He yawns, stretches and stands, scratching where the velvet of his antlers itches. He's careful with them, careful not to injure the growing bone for fear of it misforming in compensation. It'd happened to him before, and he'd had to bind and cut away a large chunk of bone. It'd been rather disturbing.

"Tobirama," he smiles when he spies his kitten on the engawa, and receives nary but a frown in return. Hashirama tries not to frown in return, and ruffles his hair instead as he heads back inside for his coin purse.

Hashirama turns an ear to the almost silent patter of little kitten pads behind him, frowning as they trail him. He assumes Tobirama will stop once he leaves their lodgings, but he _doesn't_.

He turns down an alleyway, and whirls to face his tail.

"Tobirama," he begins, considering how he's going to tell the kitten he's going for a whore so that his little student doesn't end up prey for his insatiable sexual hunger. "Kitten, I'm...I need to be somewhere for a little while, _alone_. You should practice your kata until I get back."

 _Please, please let me go, before I bend you over right here and open your pussy with my cock_.

Tobirama pouts, shuffling a couple steps forward despite how Hashirama told him to leave. He knows Hashirama's serious but…

"Can't come with?" he still asks, ears and tail lowered.

"No."

Tobirama looks away from Hashirama, hunching his shoulders and sighing. "Okay...go do… _kata_."

He looks back over his shoulder one more time at Hashirama before turning the corner. There, he waits for several long, long seconds before he hears Hashirama start walking again.

And then Tobirama starts climbing. The tops of buildings are typically safe from people's notice, considering how most of them don't look up, ever. And Tobirama has found that it's the best way to stay hidden, provided no one notices him scaling up in the first place.

From the rooftops, it’s easy to follow Hashirama. Tall, big Hashirama who clears a space around him wherever he goes.

When the spaces between houses get bigger and bigger, Tobirama fears he might have to get back on the ground and risk being caught, but then Hashirama stops and—

Tobirama tilts his head. Because Hashirama is talking to some ladies outside a building. Confused, Tobirama continues getting closer as Hashirama’s led inside.

A hop over a gap, a quick walk over a clothesline and Tobirama’s on the roof of the place Hashirama entered.

Surreptitiously, Tobirama begins dropping his head over the eave to look into windows. By the second window, Tobirama understands _where_ he is, but doesn’t understand why Hashirama had to go alone. He’s done this sort of thing before in front of Tobirama.

But then again, _before_ Tobirama didn’t feel the stir of something warm and nice inside of him. Didn’t feel the urge to stick a hand down his pants and play with himself.

His ears track a very familiar groan, and Tobirama perches on the roof, face red as he listens in. Another loud noise and he can’t help it: he flattens himself on the roof and flips his head over.

Immediately he’s greeted with an upside-down view of Hashirama with a very pretty panda lady. But what captures his attention is how Hashirama’s eyes meet his.

And then Tobirama sees Hashirama throw his head back, the panda lady’s stomach getting _coated_ and, and—

Tobirama high-tails it back to the inn, red-faced and more than willing to dive into _kata_ so he can pretend that he has no idea what Hashirama’s talking about, when Hashirama comes around and scolds him for following.

Hashirama is _furious_ , despite (because of) just having had an explosive, mind blowing orgasm all over the beautiful panda that was polite enough not to stare at his cock. He returns to their lodgings, and finds Tobirama fumbling through his kata.

Hashirama saves him the embarrassment of his terrible pretence at innocence, grabs him by the collar and carries him inside. Tobirama, for his part, behaves appropriately guiltily and doesn’t make so much as a peep, tail fluffed into an enormous brush.

His kitten mews in shock when Hashirama slams him (gently, fuck his kitten is so _tiny_ ) down against the kotatsu. Hashirama growls angrily for the first time since they met, and Tobirama goes very still under him. He knows part of this blinding rage is his own guilt, stemming from his desire, but right now he doesn't care. Right now, kind, gentle Hashirama isn't home.

"You," the alpha snarls, "deliberately disobeyed me. After I asked you not to come, after I _told_ you _no_ , you snuck around behind my back and invaded my privacy! I've been lenient until now, _Tobirama_ , but if you're so curious, then here is your answer!"

His cock springs forth, hard beyond belief and shaded a deep dusky purple. He yanks the kittens kimono open, splays those legs and rips away the fundoshi, silk tearing under his hands.

" **Look at me**."

Tobirama’s eyes, swimming with tears, leave his own and stare down at the comparatively enormous length that juts from Hashirama’s pelvis. He begins to cry, great heaving sobs of fear, and Hashirama realises he's crying too.

He presses down on the top of his cock, and something inside him withers at the bitter smell of urine as Tobirama is overcome by fear. It doesn't stop him, though, his kitten must be made to understand.

Hashirama presses his cock flat to Tobirama’s belly.

It extends past his navel, almost in line with the bottom of his rib cage, and Hashirama meets red eyes darkened to maroon with unadulterated terror.

"Look at why we can't do this."

Hashirama gives in, drags a trembling kitten into his arms, and lets himself cry.

"I want you, I want you so badly, I want to be there for your heat to show you the pleasures my partner is due; but lovely Tobirama, _my_ kitten, I'd break you."

Tobirama clings to the front of Hashirama’s shirt, trembling as he buries his face in a tan neck. Despite the display of power that shocked Tobirama— _scared_ him—he clings.

There’s a myriad of feelings swimming around inside Tobirama, and he can’t make heads or tails of what he’s actually feeling. Hashirama’s tears fall over him and Tobirama’s tail curls up between his legs as soon as it’s able to.

Shame lodges ugly and hot within his stomach, a heavy and large stone. He didn’t realize that _Hashirama_ is struggling too.

That Hashirama _wants_ him, just as he wants Hashirama.

Tobirama sniffs largely once, and wrinkles his nose at the terrible, sour smell. He hates it.

“When—when I bigger?” Tobirama asks shakily, because he _wants_. “One year?”

Hashirama goes to move away, but Tobirama feels too vulnerable, the tatters of his kimono brushing his sides, and he clings tighter to the front of Hashirama. Hands tentatively brush down his back.

There’s no answer, but Tobirama is determined, and continues talking as he pushes his face further into Hashirama’s neck, chasing the calming scent.

“There other things. Not, not _that_ we do?” _Please_ nearly rolls off Tobirama’s tongue, but this isn’t the time for begging. 

Since learning to read he’s taken to thumbing through every inn’s stockpile of books, and he stumbled on one with pictures. _Naked people_ pictures. And while he couldn’t understand _all_ the letters due to how they were written, he _could_ interpret the poses. Frequently he finds himself thinking of Hashirama and himself in similar poses together.

"Yes, when you're bigger." He makes no reply as to how long, because Tobirama is perhaps only fourteen _at most_ , and will still be far too small in a year from now.

"Other things?"

 _That_ warrants investigation, and Hashirama is relieved, shocked and annoyed all at once. He wipes his tears, sniffing snottily in Tobirama’s neck in the most disgusting way possible just to tease, and leans back to look at the top of his kitten's head while Tobirama squirms with disgust.

"Where did you see these _other things_ , hmm kitten? What have you been getting up to while I was busy?"

Hashirama thinks briefly of the dirty porn the old toad gave him, but that's in such terrible handwriting that Tobirama would find it impossible to read.

The hairs on Tobirama’s neck stand up from where Hashirama nearly wiped his snot on him. And all of Tobirama’s bravado crumbles when Hashirama uses _that_ tone of voice.

Shyly, he suddenly finds his toes—gross, wet with his pee—very interesting.

“Mmmmrrrr...there books, with...pictures—we take bath now? Please?” Tobirama quickly glosses over his confession to blink pleading eyes up at Hashirama.

As soon as he starts squirming, Hashirama’s hold on him tightens and Tobirama wriggles more, pushing against Hashirama’s chest, leaning further away from Hashirama.

“Are you _embarrassed_ , little kitten?” The smirk on Hashirama’s face makes Tobirama blush.

“NO! No embarrassed!” Tobirama renews his struggles to escape the strong hold.

It gets him nowhere and Hashirama _coos_ at him, making his face feel even hotter.

“Bath!” Tobirama shouts as Hashirama leans in to do _who knows what_. “Clean bath!”

Pushing on Hashirama’s face only gets his fingers licked and sucked and bitten playfully and Tobirama giggles at the weird sensations.

“Noo!” Tobirama shrieks as Hashirama stands up, bringing Tobirama up with him.

“But I thought you _wanted_ a bath?”

Tobirama goes boneless, his top half folding over Hashirama’s arms as he whines.

"You're very red for someone who's _not_ embarrassed. Is _that_ why you want a bath? To wash out your mind after reading dirty books with filthy, detailed, _sexy_ pictures?"

Hashirama cackles, lifts his kitten up high to pretend to wipe his snotty nose on a soft, pale belly, blowing a loud raspberry when Tobirama renews his wriggling.

Finally, once they're settled in a hot bath, he draws Tobirama up into his lap and scratches under his chin and down his throat.

"Why don't you tell me about these things you read about, hmm kitten? I'd like to know what you think you'd like. I won't ever laugh at you, you have my word, lovely Tobirama."

Tobirama’s eyes flutter closed as Hashirama strokes the underside of his jaw, trailing fingers down his neck. He purrs loudly.

Then Hashirama’s words sink in, and his purrs stutter and he feels his face warm. It’s easy to pretend that it’s because of the steam of the bath. But it’s _comfortable_ in Hashirama’s lap, the way he leans against Hashirama’s chest and has his head thrown back to expose his throat for more petting.

Thoughts and images of what he’s seen, of the scant few words he’s been able to read float through his mind. He squeezes his legs together as he remembers one image very, very clearly. A tap on his throat reminds him that _Hashirama wants to know_.

That makes Tobirama squirm some more before he tests out the new words.

“Both? Mrrr—d-double.” Tobirama wriggles as he remembers the image of a splayed out lady, fingers drawn entering _two_ distinct holes. The second word finally comes to Tobirama and it comes out as a hoarse whisper. “ _Penetrrration_.”

Hashirama hums behind him and Tobirama can’t handle it. He moves his hands to rub at his chest, to brush along the sensitive spots as he imagines _Hashirama’s_ fingers going lower, lower, down off his throat and past his hands, even further to not only tease where he’s wet, but also to tease the _other_ hole.

“Lots touch,” Tobirama is panting now, openly nosing at Hashirama’s jaw upside-down as his head is still thrown back for Hashirama’s petting. “Mmmrr _all over_.”

Actually saying the words out loud, to _Hashirama_ , only further makes Tobirama feel hot all over. And now that he’s started, he can’t stop.

“Mouth and—and _fingers_ ”—Tobirama’s breath hitches at the thought—“Both. Fingers in _both_ , and mouth. All.”

The image of a male omega, the _only_ picture Tobirama has seen so far in his sneaky library adventures, pops up in his head: a round belly, so round the _cock_ is barely visible. Chest bigger and with _liquid_ coming out of the nipples. And then the alpha—clearly much, _much_ bigger, with _his_ cock inside. It’s all together the easiest picture to overlay himself and Hashirama to.

One of Tobirama’s hands fly down under the water to touch himself, the words to describe the picture scrambled as he feels pleasure spark up his spine and all that comes out of his mouth is high-pitched whines and trills.

He purrs when Hashirama continues gently stroking his chin and neck.

"Fingers?"

 _Fuck_ , he's lost his mind, _I shouldn't, I really really shouldn't_. Hashirama really should _not_ , but he's too far gone already. There is no return, and therefore no more reason to keep his kitten from satisfying his curiosity.

He trails a finger down, dips his head to Tobirama’s throat to press attentive kisses there. The skin is unbelievably soft, sweet scented in a way that sends his cock from half mast to erect in a painfully short moment.

"Do you remember," he whispers there, "about that special spot I told you about? You saw me on my belly under another male, saw me _taken_ , and I told you I enjoyed it."

As he speaks, Hashirama trails a hand down between them and comes to rub gently against Tobirama's puckered entrance. There's a gasp, but no denials.

He knows Tobirama is clean, _and honestly it's far too late to stop now_.

"Let me show you what pleasures a little kitten deserves," Hashirama growls, and slips his index finger into Tobirama’s relaxed entrance.

Tobirama has a sense of _right_ flutter through him so strong he whines and arches his back instinctually. The nibbles on his neck, the way he’s remembering the very moment he saw Hashirama as he says, _on his belly_ —Tobirama _wants_ and he’s eager enough for what Hashirama seems to want to give him.

“P-Please…” Tobirama trails off with a gasp, his hands suddenly remembering they can be moving as well.

He whines, loud and full, at the slide of Hashirama’s finger inside him. After several moments of panting, Tobirama bites his lip on a moan as he slips _his_ finger inside his pussy.

It feels weird to be able to feel Hashirama’s finger inside him as well, and he takes a moment to focus on that, rubbing and curling his own finger against Hashriama’s much bigger finger. And then Hashirama’s finger goes _further_ inside him and Tobirama can’t reach—

“Ah!” Tobirama cries out. “Good—mmmore?”

Hashirama’s finger moves again and Tobirama twitches, throwing his head even further back and exposing his neck to more of Hashirama and his mouth.

It feels almost surreal to see Tobirama like this, to _touch_ him like this. The taste of his skin lingers on Hashirama’s lips and droplets of water draw it over Hashirama’s tongue. It's intoxicating, and Hashirama doesn’t stop himself from chasing the sensation of creamy skin.

The heated softness is welcoming around his finger, and Hashirama settles in to circle his kitten's prostate, relaxing into the beautiful arch Tobirama curves himself into.

Tobirama’s fingers have stilled against his own, and Hashirama takes it as an invitation to grip his slender cocklet in the ring of his thumb and forefinger. His grip is firm, but not nearly as harsh as he would use on his own cock.

Working his kitten to orgasm is easy, Hashirama has many years of experience. After the day they've had, it's particularly rewarding, watching as he falls apart.

It’s all Hashirama needs to reach his own peak, and Tobirama giggles weakly when it jets from his cock to splash into the water.

Tobirama is completely boneless and feels like he's floating. Lazily, he chirps up at Hashirama and is rewarded when he's picked up and gently dried off. His purrs are strong as he's then carried back to their room, and when Hashirama opens the door, he braces himself for the terrible scents, but finds that they're not there at all.

He can't think on that for too long, however, because Hashirama dresses him and tucks him up against his chest as they lay on the futon for bed.

Tobirama sighs happily and snuggles closer.

"Love Hashirama, love you." The words are softly spoken in the quiet of the room, but he knows Hashirama heard him, because he feels a kiss placed on the top of his head.

He kneads Hashirama's chest happily and purrs louder as he relaxes into the confident touches on his back.

It inspires a certain amount of awe in him, to hear those words. It's a little frightening, too, the pressure of it inside his chest. Tobirama is _his_ kitten, his student and companion, no matter his origins.

He smiles, breathes in the scent of happy omega that is starting to smell more of _potential mate_ than _young child_.

"I love you too, Tobirama."


	6. Chapter 6

They do go to Madara's for Tobirama’s heat, and by the time they arrive Hashirama has been hard for two days. Tobirama, for his part, hasn't even _gone_ into heat yet.

He growls at Tajima so loudly the old tom's tail fluffs in surprise, and Madara’s is half up in threat. He doesn’t apologize, not when he can see them scent the air in a manner that's really rubbing him up the wrong way.

Tobirama is excited to see the city again. To see Tajima and Madara again. The excitement is tinged with anxiety about the upcoming changes inside him, and he can tell Hashirama knows what’s going on because for the last several days of travel, he’s kept Tobirama inside his cloak as they ride, pressed up against his chest.

It’s almost unbearably hot but whenever Tobirama shifted Hashirama would growl. Thankfully he was able to stick his head out—and later his body—between the small settlements they passed through.

Getting _into_ the city was also rough. Hashirama doubled down on tucking him away inside the cloak, even getting Tobirama to pull his feet up onto Genma’s back. Tobirama pouted, because typically he could stay _out_ of the cloak during the night, but not this time, apparently.

With his new sense of smell, his tail curls and flicks, interested, at the scents rolling off of the peacock and old tom. There’s a moment where everyone is still, and Tobirama holds his breath, unsure of what, exactly, is going on but knowing he _needs_ to stay still.

Hashirama’s growl startles everyone, Tobirama included.

Tobirama blinks up at Hashirama, confused. A hand comes down to gently ruffle his hair and rub his ears. He trills and closes his eyes, pushing his head up into the touch.

It must calm whatever’s going on with Hashirama, because he then trails his hand to cup his jaw, rubbing his thumb over his cheek. Tobirama pushes his face into Hashirama’s hand. The touch might have calmed Hashirama, but it makes something inside Tobirama clench.

His tongue rasps against Hashirama’s palm and suddenly the air _feels_ thicker. Tobirama makes a small noise of complaint when Hashirama’s hand retreats quickly. However, the budding growl dies in his chest when the movement causes his attention to focus on Hashirama’s cloak.

He sticks his hands out.

“Cloak? Mmrr— _need_ cloak?” The cloak is soft, of course it is, and Tobirama has a strong desire to take it, to wrap it around himself and roll around. In fact, he wants _more_ than just the cloak, and eyes Madara and Tajima for equally soft-looking fabrics.

Tobirama is a devilish little nest maker, whirling through Hashirama’s pack and plucking out fabrics that meet whatever odd criteria he's set as his benchmark. It's deeply entertaining, especially when he sets his sights on Tajima and Madara’s wardrobes next.

A heat room is aired and a nesting futon is rolled out, and Hashirama gives his kitten all the space he needs as the boy sets about preparing his first nest. Pillows, blankets, clothes—all are arranged and beaten into submission.

Tobirama has just finished, when Hashirama bids him farewell and makes to leave quickly before he does something regrettable. He's halted by claws pricking his ass.

"No!"

Tobirama _knows_ what Hashirama has told him. That Hashirama’s _not_ going to stay, that he’ll hurt Tobirama accidentally—and Tobirama’s _seen_ the proof of those claims.

But Tobirama also knows that they’ve done _other_ things. Things that make Tobirama’s tail curl just thinking about.

“Stay?” Tobirama tries, gently tugging on Hashirama’s clothes where he’s dug his claws in. “Do—do _other_ things? Help?”

Tobirama takes a step forward, plastering himself against Hashirama’s back, rubbing his chin against the strong muscles he can feel there.

“Protect?” It’s shaky, edged with Tobirama’s fear of what’s going to happen, of being _alone_ again for an indeterminate amount of time.

There’s also a part of him that really, _really_ doesn’t want to let Hashirama go. That says he _needs_ to keep Hashirama—an _alpha_ here. He’s talking even before his mind catches up.

“Alpha, _please_?”

All the breath whooshes out of him at those words, at the way Tobirama _begs_ with them as only an omega can. He does his best to work through it, to tame the flaring desire inside, to remind himself that Tobirama is only a child.

"Kitten, I—" He gasps a shaky breath as Tobirama scrabbles, claws dragging over his skin in a way that makes his loins tingle and his head spin. He looks at Madara and Tajima for aid, and finds only expectant eyes.

Hashirama chews on his lip and strokes a hand over the velvet of his antlers as he tries to convince himself to keep walking. He remembers what happened during his rut, and though autumn is still months away he struggles to trust himself.

Tajima gives him a terribly knowing look, and nods. He sighs, and kneels so that he may turn to look his budding queen in the eye.

"Alright, Tobirama. I'll stay. I can't promise more than that, but I will help as best I can."

Tobirama gives a sudden trill at Hashirama’s words, not hesitating to throw himself at Hashirama, rubbing his chin over Hashirama’s jaw, and neck, and shoulder, and back up. He chases the scent eagerly, enjoying his own lying thick over Hashirama’s enticing one.

The thought of having Hashirama’s scent over the mound of soft blankets and clothing and pillows…

He’s tugging Hashirama in with all his strength, chirping at the very real idea that _he could have Hashirama in his safe spot_ as well. Purring starts up shortly after Hashirama stands up, and it’s almost irritating how long it takes Hashirama to close the door. But eventually— _finally_ —Hashirama follows him.

Tobirama purrs as he shuffles objects around the futon, making a space for Hashirama he didn’t actually plan for the first time. It doesn’t take him long.

And then he’s got his _alpha_ in the nest with him, and he tugs on his own yukata because he’s gotten warm, and then when it’s off he simply tucks it in around Hashirama’s back, before wriggling his way underneath several overlapping clothes so that he’s right next to Hashirama.

He sighs happily, content for now, and wraps himself around Hashirama as best he can, clinging and purring and nuzzling.

* * *

Tajima has been watching carefully since Tobirama arrived. The way Hashirama postured was unnecessary; despite the blooming, honey-rich scent in the air, Tajima’s well aware of his age and knows Madara has no interest in omegas, especially first-timers.

The door closes to the heat room and Tajima rolls his head to crack his neck before walking back towards the sitting room, where he’s sure his tea has gone cold.

“Coming, Madara?”

His son just squawks at him, stomping his foot.

“You’re just going to _let Hashirama_ —” Madara cuts himself off when Tajima turns to look back at him.

“I am. Just as _you_ are. Hashirama might be larger than normal, but he’s nervous about this too. Which means he’ll be _careful_.” Tajima nearly snorts at his own words. _Might be_ larger.

“And if he’s not?”

“That little kitten of his is about to queen. I’d be sincerely surprised if Hashirama winds up hurting him and _not_ wind up mauled.”

Madara shoots him a skeptical look, but Tajima knows. He’s had nearly twice as much experience as Madara, and has slept with plenty of omegas, especially _queens_ before. The scars on his wrist, four silvery divots that have healed nicely with age, only prove his words on feline hybrids.

 _Tajima_ had done nothing wrong to get the bite. In fact, the lady had been so horrified at her own reaction that she’d paid him double and allowed him to leave. Later he found out she already had her mind set on another, but was unwilling to approach the alpha for her heat, and thus came to Tajima for help. But her instincts claimed he was a threat, and she lashed out.

It’s as much a funny story now as a cautionary one.

 _No_ , Tajima thinks with a secretive smile and twitching tail, _Tobirama will give Hashirama a run for his money_.

* * *

Hashirama rumbles, relaxing at last as they're left alone. He knows, objectively, that Tajima and Madara are no threat to either of them, but all the same he feels better with them gone.

His cock throbs and twitches between his legs, and he trails a slow look down Tobirama’s body. His kitten has finally gained a decent amount of weight, and there is a fullness to him that Hashirama can't help but admire.

He smiles and reaches out, hand stroking down Tobirama’s back.

Tobirama sighs happily as Hashirama’s large, warm hand rubs up and down his back. It feels… _nice_. And once that thought embeds itself into his mind, Tobirama needs more.

Without opening his eyes, he fumbles his way into Hashirama’s yukata, tugging and working his arms in to splay it wider so his chest can touch Hashirama’s, so there’s just more _skin_ touching between them.

Something deep inside him purrs with satisfaction, right up until Hashirama attempts to move him.

Not even a warning growl comes out; Tobirama goes straight for the claws as he _clings_ , pulling himself even closer despite how Hashirama makes a surprised noise. _Then_ the warning growl comes out, loud and low and clear. Hashirama huffs, and the hand not on his back creeps between them to mess with something.

It’s not _pleasant_ but not _unpleasant_ and so Tobirama allows the weird motions that move him to continue until suddenly there’s _so much more_ skin to press himself against.

Trilling, he rolls over completely on top of Hashirama—on top of his _alpha_ —to feel it all. Squirming up to his neck, Tobirama nuzzles there, alternating between lightly nibbling and lapping at the deep, woodsy scent there.

Alpha’s hands touch his hips, pull and tug on something but all it does is reveal more skin— _sensitive_ skin.

Hashirama grunts in surprise at the clawing he gets, frowning at his kitten for a moment before shrugging it off. Tobirama is hardly dangerous to him and Hashirama… _likes_ the marks. 

Keeping ahold of himself gets more and more difficult as they lose their clothes. Hashirama is already so very hard, and it takes a conscious effort to still himself. There will be no penetration, not with Tobirama this small.

Still, the seduction that Tobirama’s lips, teeth and tongue work into his neck drives him to distraction. He groans for it, hands reaching for his own pants now that Tobirama’s have been removed.

His cock hits his belly with a solid smack, throwing off strings of pre-come. His hands slide up to Tobirama’s ass, itching with the need to squeeze.

The touch to his bottom sends Tobirama’s head tilting, considering. Pushing back against it causes the hands to _grip_ and that—that feels—

Tobirama whines, pressing more and arching his back, causing his cocklet to rub against his alpha’s belly. And the touches aren’t enough, then. Squirming some more, his hips move to get Hashirama’s hands where he wants them. Not even three breaths later Tobirama has a hand reaching back to _move_ Hashirama’s hand where he wants it.

His tail flicks out of the way easily as Hashirama’s finger traces up and down where Tobirama feels himself leaking more than usual. He purrs, going back to lapping at Hashirama’s neck now that he knows he’s getting what he wants.

When one of those thick fingers presses into him, something _clicks_ inside Tobirama, and he bites down on Hashirama’s shoulder, uncaring that he’s done so hard enough to taste blood.

Yowling, he brings a back foot up to kick at the offending arm. His ears flick back, annoyed.

But Hashirama’s gone _too_ still under him, and with another annoyed lash of his tail, he goes back to pressing himself against the hand still on him. He bites again, lighter this time, when Hashirama’s offending hand goes back to his butt, instead of what it was doing _before_.

“ _Ouch_ , kitten.”

Tobirama growls in warning as Hashirama speaks, flattening himself against Hashirama’s bulk and pressing his teeth against the underside of his jaw. When Hashirama doesn’t speak again, he perks his ears up and laps at the spot there on his neck.

Trilling once gets him nothing. Trilling _again_ while pressing back against Hashirama’s hands gets him a very, _very_ tentative couple fingers rubbing along the outside of him.

He purrs loudly in response.

Hashirama isn't sure _what_ he's doing wrong. Tobirama seems so intent on sex, and yet every time Hashirama takes up the invitations to initiate, he's rebuffed with teeth and claws.

He sighs, settles back into the nest that is still rather small, and contents himself with running his fingers over Tobirama’s hot, swollen cunt, luxuriating in the sensation of long fur brushing his legs. The purring is relaxing and Hashirama resolves to do no more than this until Tobirama indicates otherwise.

He doesn’t realise it, but he drifts into a light doze before long. He's still incredibly hard, still aching, half lost in the scent of Tobirama’s heat, but he is slowly starting to find a comforting form of rest.

Hashirama sighs, and his eyes slip closed.

Tobirama’s happily purring away, having his pussy gently stroked as he rubs himself over Hashirama’s chest, when those fingers _stop_ moving.

A trill in question goes unanswered and so Tobirama lifts himself up, tail curling in curiosity. Hashirama’s eyes are closed, and beneath him that strong chest rises and falls steadily.

Now staring at Hashirama’s face, Tobirama mrows loudly.

There’s no response.

Annoyed, Tobirama pushes himself up, intent on kicking Hashirama out of his nest for falling asleep, but he pauses as he catches a whiff of a _very_ good scent. It’s _Hashirama_ , more potent than ever, and Tobirama finds himself turning around over that broad chest to face the good smell.

As he lays himself back down, he starts purring again, rubbing himself over a new patch of tan skin below him.

The first taste of the potent liquid comes from Hashirama’s belly, and from there Tobirama licks stripes until he gets to the source. His tail flicks excitedly as he leans forward, bracing the long cock with a hand before having a taste.

Hashirama’s ears swivel up, focusing even as he dozes. Something soft tickles his face and a heavenly scent reaches his nose, and he smacks his lips a little with interest.

There's a hot tongue lapping at his belly, following the cooling stringy puddle of his pre-come. Hashirama shudders a sigh, wincing lightly as his cock is grasped. He's so hard even a light touch hurts, hard beyond pleasure and it stirs him in his sleep.

A tongue on his cockhead wakes him with a jolt, and his hand flies to the soft silver fall of Tobirama’s hair.

"Ah—kitten," he grunts, gently tugging his student away from his aching erection.

Tobirama grips harder the moment Hashirama starts talking, and a hand falls on his head.

He _wants_ this, and Hashirama will _not_ take it away from him!

Hashirama makes another noise that Tobirama tracks peripherally. He’s much more interested in lapping at more of the clear fluid that’s dripping out of Hashirama’s cock. The hand tightening its grip in his hair makes him _move_ , taking as much of the cock into his mouth as possible, growling as the hand moves to his nape.

Endorphins rush through Tobirama’s body as he’s scruffed, and he purrs despite being unable to move. Hashirama’s strong arms pull him up and off, much to Tobirama’s intense displeasure, and he’s even dragged further up, his hands now barely able to touch Hashirama’s cock.

Hot breath on his pussy makes him chirp, and the hand squeezing the back of his neck releases just as a tongue laps at him.

Arching his back is _right_ and Hashirama rumbles at him, which makes him push himself further back onto his mouth, yowling and trilling as a tongue traces his wetness.

It even dips inside of him, very gently and lightly, but is quick to grow bold when Tobirama makes no moves to stop him.

The pressure builds inside Tobirama's tummy, a coiling feeling that Hashirama’s tongue is simultaneously _too much_ and _not enough_. It makes Tobirama roll off Hashirama quickly, going to the other corner of his safe and warm nest to take care of it himself.

Facing Hashirama, Tobirama folds himself in half, following the path Hashirama took with his own tongue and lapping up the sticky strands of pleasure when the pressure finally releases.

Hashirama sucks in a sharp breath, eyes glued to his kitten as the boy laps at his own cunt. There's high noises, Hashirama chases the taste of omega on his lips, and suddenly Tobirama’s coming with a hitched cry all over his own tongue.

A painfully tight ring of fingers dampens Hashirama’s own orgasm even as his hips press up to meet the pressure. He gasps, grunting breathlessly in the throes of his orgasm as spots dance before his eyes.

He's not ashamed that he's come without touch like a teen, more relieved at the release of the pressure inside him. He's still hard, but his muscles have relaxed some with his first orgasm and his cock doesn't hurt quite so much.

He flops back with a sigh, legs stretching out of the nest as he lifts a tentative hand, stroking Tobirama’s upper arm with the backs of his fingers as he pants.

Tobirama perks up at the feeling of fingers on his arm, trilling in question and then letting out a loud mrow at Hashirama. Following his nose, he starts lapping at the puddles and streaks of white on Hashirama’s belly. He gives the cock a few, exploratory licks before turning away, content.

This time, when the hand lands on his head, he purrs and pushes up against it. The ear rubs make him knead, and he kneads Hashirama as he curls up by his chest. Muscles twitch below his hands but Tobirama pays them no mind, purring away as he mrows.

One pet too many has Tobirama turning his head and biting the hand before he stuffs his face into the crook of Hashirama’s neck. A few licks to the _alpha_ below him and then Tobirama’s backing out from the hold, rolling onto his back on a free section of his nest before flipping to his stomach.

His caterwauling starts quietly, but builds as his tail flicks up and over. Both his purrs and his trills increase in volume between the loud, long noises and Tobirama lets his body move in the ways that feel _right_.

Setting his head down on the soft pillows, he faces Hashirama—faces his _alpha_ —and yowls loudly for him. He’s _right there_ but Tobirama wants him to do, to do _something_.

A part of him wants Hashirama to _mount_ him—Tobirama arches his back at the thought, his tail flipping to the other side and exposing himself.

He mrows again, meeting Hashirama’s eyes easily.

Hashirama’s seen enough cats mating to recognise _that_ pose, that _invitation_ , the vocal summoning that calls him forward. He can't do anything, can't fulfill Tobirama’s desire, can't ease his cock into that hot embrace.

He sits up and takes a moment to breathe through his urges and get a look at himself. Hashirama is scratched, bitten and bleeding and it pleases the very depths of his alpha instincts.

Hashirama gives his kitten a long look, taking in the fluffy tail, the hair like starlight, the perked ears and the wide blown pupils. He shuffles closer and comes to rest on haunches behind his student.

Hashirama eyes his kitten, strokes a hand down his back, and softly, gently, rubs his thumb over the parted, swollen labia.

Tobirama is pleased, and he makes it known by the way he throws his head back and shuffles his back legs to further expose himself. _Alpha_ is behind him, and is _touching_ him.

Mewing, Tobirama shuffles some more when the touch doesn’t become _more_. His chest is sensitive, but he lays it on the soft bedding as well. Anything to entice his alpha further.

When a finger enters him this time, Tobirama attempts to purr and yowl at the same time. What comes out is a mixture of the two, and he clenches on the finger to keep it inside, to draw it in _further_.

One finger becomes two, and Tobirama gasps as his claws catch and poke little holes in the shirt he’s kneading. A mrowing trill later and there’s a wetness pressing against him.

Instincts make him go still despite the pleasure flooding him, causing him to clench. But unlike what his instincts _think_ , it’s a _tongue_ that’s lapping at him.

It’s not the right hole, but there’s fingers already inside him and that sates him. A warm hand rubs against his cocklet and Tobirama feels another wash of pleasure.

Mewling, Tobirama presses back against the onslaught of fingers and hands and tongue.

This is more familiar territory. Hashirama has done this and things like it a thousand times, and it's that familiarity that calms and comforts him. He can do this, can ease his kitten through his queening without hurting him or leaving him dissatisfied.

It’s an age old seduction, a poetic dance that Hashirama knows by heart. His own rumble starts up, contentment stemming from the push and pull of his fingers in Tobirama’s cunt, the swipe and wriggle of his tongue into the kitten's rosebud. A gentle hand to his cocklet, and his omega is blissful putty.

Hashirama works him through gentle peaks, pushing him to pleasure again and again until Tobirama is more slumped than arched. A final orgasm that rings out a reedy wail, and Tobirama dribbles a thin stream of come and marking scent onto his fingers before he slumps, ass in the air, and passes out.

Hashirama kisses a smooth cheek, and sneaks out for food and drink, forgoing clothes. Which is why Madara and Tajima look an odd mix of shocked and pleased at Hashirama’s bare, aroused and bloodied body.

* * *

When Hashirama walks in while Madara’s talking with Tajima, he nearly has a heart attack.

Madara stares at Hashirama, and not just because he’s completely bare and very easy on the eyes. It’s because—

“You’re _bleeding_!” And he really is, little scrapes, pricks, _bites_ litter Hashirama’s chest and sides and neck. It’s almost as though he got mauled by some wild animal.

Tajima chuckles, giving Hashirama a once-over before respectfully averting his gaze. Hashirama shrugs and continues on, leaving Madara gaping after him.

His tail ruffles up.

“Didn’t I tell you that queens are like that?”

Madara glares at his father, jealousy rearing its ugly head because Hashirama looked so _pleased_.

“No, I don’t believe you did.”

“Ah, well. Now you know.”

“Hmph.” Madara turns back to his tea, staring at it while Tajima does his smug little _not actually laughing_ thing he does when he thinks Madara’s being silly.

Stupid giant stag of an alpha.

* * *

Tobirama wakes up slowly, stretching out and nuzzling his face into his _nest_ , body aching in a very nice way. When he lifts his head, he scents food, but also _alpha_ , and food can wait.

Trilling, he pulls himself back into the proper position.

He trills again, wiggling his back legs and tail when he’s not touched immediately.

Opening his eyes, he tracks the smell to Hashirama, and mrows loudly at him when their eyes meet.

“There’s food.”

Tobirama lashes his tail because he _knows_ there’s food! But _food_ isn’t what he wants right now!

He mrows louder, more insistent and arches his back more.

Hashirama tries a firm hand at first, lifting a brow and looking pointedly at the offerings of fish and rice between them. Commanding Tobirama to eat gets them nowhere, and threatening no sex gets him attempts at coercion.

Somehow they end up in an odd compromise where Hashirama is humping his kitten and stuffing his mouth with fish and rice whenever Tobirama opens his mouth to yowl. He won't complain, because it gets his omega fed, but it was far too difficult to concentrate than should be fair.

It’s enough for both of them, and there's no glory quite like a little omega gushing against his cock, tail vibrating against his side as Hashirama decorates the sheets.

Once the world has stopped flashing brilliant colours, Hashirama slumps onto his side, tired in spite of his nap, and closes his eyes.

Tobirama lays there, content for the moment despite how his _pussy_ aches for something to fill it. His raspy tongue is enough for a small wash of pleasure to come over him as he cleans himself off, tasting the salt and musk of alpha overtop his sweet taste.

Rolling onto his back, he trills and wriggles his way up to Hashirama’s side. More short bursts of trills come out as Tobirama swings a leg over, causing his swollen pussy to bump up against Hashirama’s cock.

He humps. Of _course_ he does. Tobirama feels the _need_ deep inside him and it’s _right there_.

Happy sounds in all varieties come out as Tobirama starts getting overstimulated. Licking the top of Hashirama’s belly, right in front of his face, is just something that needs to be done. He can _feel_ how close Hashirama’s cock is to popping inside him.

It’s _so close_.

Hashirama’s hands descend on his sides and Tobirama yowls, humping harder and faster to get what he _needs_ , what he _craves_ , before Hashirama inevitably pulls him away.

A particularly desperate thrust gets the very tip of that glorious cock not only part his folds—but start dipping _inside_ —

Tobirama goes boneless as Hashirama rolls them over, growling and gripping him hard. His eyes close as his head lolls to one side, exposing his neck. Smug satisfaction fills him as Hashirama leans over him to lick at the long line of his neck. He purrs and his tail curls happily.

Finally, _finally_ he’ll get what he needs.

Hashirama rumbles, nipping a generous constellation of purple bruises onto Tobirama’s slender neck, enjoying the primal pleasure leaving his mark brings. It helps banish his annoyance at his kitten’s incessant manipulation, grounds him and stops him from giving into dominant retaliation.

It takes a monumental effort to ease his cock away from the promises of a hot embrace, but the sting of angry claws does provide distraction.

He soothes the angry hisses with two fingers to Tobirama’s cunt, plunging them in to give his kitten’s perfect spot a good pounding. One orgasm after another, until Tobirama’s head lolls and his eyes are glassy and sightless.

It sets the tone for the rest of the week; Hashirama fingers his kitten senseless, kisses him breathless and does his best to get food and water into the boy without suffering too many bites and scratches.

By the time his student’s heat is coming to an end, Hashirama is sitting bruised, bitten and scratched at the kotatsu with an exhausted Tobirama in his lap, waiting for Madara and Tajima.

* * *

Tobirama whines as Hashirama shifts his legs when the door opens. Sprawled over Hashirama’s lap, Tobirama attempts to piece himself together throughout the myriad aches and throbs. Thankfully the voice that speaks is pitched low and quiet.

“I’ll get the cooks to get a nice stew made.” It’s Tajima’s voice, and his ear flicks back to listen but otherwise he stays as still as possible. “Here’s some bandages I took the liberty of acquiring on my way to check on you two.”

Something soft lands on the floor and Tobirama’s curiosity gets the better of him and he turns to look. It’s a small bag, but other than that there’s nothing significant to it, and his gaze travels up to meet Tajima’s eyes. There’s no shame in him when his tail gives a tired twitch of interest, but he’s unwilling to move further.

Tajima simply waves off whatever words Hashirama just spoke. He’s not making much attention and he _feels_ them, rather than hears them.

Another whine comes out as Tobirama’s picked up, and every limb feels loose and soft. He spills over the sides of Hashirama’s arms, uncaring of the way Hashirama lightly scolds him.

The water is nice and hot when Hashirama lowers them into it, and Tobirama takes a moment to think about _when_ Hashirama might have filled the tub, but thinking is hard. All he knows is that his alpha is taking care of him, and that feels right. His eyes slip closed as soon as the water reaches his chest.

Turning his head upwards with a small noise, he gets a light kiss. Tobirama makes a happy noise and goes back to enjoying Hashirama’s care.

Washing his kitten is a gentle, careful endeavour and one Hashirama luxuriates in with a simple sort of joy. He could do _this_ any day, doting attention on his beautiful kitten.

Hashirama makes sure to feed his student, placing small bites of gentle foods into Tobirama’s mouth, rumbling in comfort. His kitten seems to enjoy this, a harken back to early days, though his reception is much warmer.

Somewhere along the line, once they've both washed and dried and Tobirama's been fed, Hashirama falls asleep again bent over his kitten with his face smashed against the kotatsu.

Something touches one of his scratches, and he stirs with a deep growl. Tajima's face swims into view, and Hashirama relaxes again. They eat, Hashirama half asleep, before curling up on fresh linens on the nest.

When Tobirama opens his eyes next, he’s feeling much better. It doesn’t hurt to shift around and trill up at Hashirama, who’s draped over his back, bracketing him in a cocoon of warmth.

Hashirama stirs easily, and Tobirama opens his mouth to say ‘good morning’ when his eyes catch on the bandages. Specifically, the ones wrapped around Hashirama’s _throat_.

He scrambles to turn around for a better look, nearly braining himself on Hashirama’s chin as he doesn’t leave the nice warm embrace to do so.

“Did hurt you?” Tobirama starts, hands hovering over the strips of white. Hashirama’s yukata shifts and with it, Tobirama’s attention.

A sound of hurt comes out.

“More hurt? All over?” Tobirama can feel his eyes burning. He didn’t know that he’d _hurt_ Hashirama by keeping him here! He won’t ever ask again!

"Shh," he hushes, half awake and less aware than he should be. Hashirama wraps his kitten in comforting arms and tips his chin up for a kiss, as has been commonplace during the boy's heat.

He makes a noise of surprise when his kitten pulls away, blinking and taking in the look of upset he finds. The words coalesce in his brain, and Hashirama realises how this must look.

"Ah, kitten, it's uh—it's alright. I don't mind it."

 _I like it_ , is what he means. _I like it, just as much as any alpha would. I liked you clawing at me in the frenzy of your passion, liked you biting me and hissing at me. I liked your domineering queening_.

Tobirama stares at Hashirama for several more moments, watching for the signs that he’s seen many, many times before on other faces that _say_ one thing but think another.

Hashirama...isn’t lying. At least, not that he can tell.

So reluctantly Tobirama allows his head to be tipped up and a light kiss to be brushed onto his lips and cheek with only the barest of pouts.

“ _Really_ don’t mind?” Tobirama asks, wanting to make sure that he didn’t accidentally do something Hashirama didn’t like.

He gets a chuckle and a hand ruffling his hair before another kiss is placed on his lips.

“Really.”

Tobirama wiggles his way out from Hashirama’s arms, standing up and padding over to the table to see the rice and fish on it. He mrrows in interest before plopping down and looking over at Hashirama.

“Eat before I eat all.”

And with a quickly spoken _itadakimasu_ , Tobirama starts in on breakfast.

* * *

Now that Tobirama has had his heat, it's _Hashirama_ who is sitting with the unfulfilled desires. He would like to think he's done well, having resisted such enticing temptation so staunchly. Tobirama is, after all, crafted by nature to have alphas like him at his every beck and call.

Now Hashirama is left with the consequences of denying his most base instincts, his prime directive. He _needs_ release; the release of proper sex and the high that comes with pleasing a partner who is sound of mind. And being pleased in return, of course.

His first idea is to go to Madara, who has proven himself time and time again to be a phenomenal bedfellow with a penchant for good hard _fucking_. But, that isn't quite what Hashirama wants right now. At least, not _just_ that.

So he goes to Tajima instead, once Tobirama has gone to sleep, and scoops the tom up into his arms. To his credit he does nothing more than lash his tail, but that too comes to an end as Hashirama brings their lips together in a kiss.

That's how Madara finds them; intertwined in the hallway with Hashirama fumbling between their rutting hips, Tajima's claws digging into his back. Not one to be surprised, denied or outdone, Madara slots in behind Hashirama and drags his pants to the floor.

Tajima can count the number of times he's seen Hashirama like this on one hand and still have fingers left over. It's a good sign—for Tobirama that is, that Hashirama intends to keep him around for the long term.

Madara shifts behind Hashirama and Tajima brings a foot up to kick his overeager son when his hand comes between them. There is a _reason_ Hashirama came to _him_ , and it's not for the type of sex he knows his son favors with the stag.

No, Tajima can _feel_ the scratches tiny claws have made over Hashirama's back, _saw_ them earlier. What Hashirama needs is to make _love_. Something Madara and himself typically don't do, but Hashirama is a special case. A long-standing customer. A friend.

So Tajima directs them all towards his room, progress slow as Hashirama gets caught up in kissing and fondling whoever winds up between those large hands.

Another kick to his son when he gets tetchy and he's cowed again. For now.

Tajima expects he'll need to correct his son several more times. But it's necessary, because Hashirama is _fragile_ right now, despite how big and strong he is. A gentle touch is required and now, because Tajima got caught up in the hallway kissing Hashirama, he has to deal with the fact Madara stumbled upon them.

Stupid little son of his.

Madara hisses and ruffles his tail feathers when his father _pinches_ him. It's the latest in a series of attacks on his person. All Madara wants to do is have a good, proper _fuck_ and Tajima seems intent to make it some slow, sappy thing.

Though, admittedly, Madara might be a _little_ wound up since he hasn't been able to take clients for the past week. Hashirama was _right there_ and Madara knew what he was up to with that little stray of his.

A stray that looks more and more like a proper omega each time he visits.

Hmph.

Madara complies with the soft and slow touches, the lingering kisses, if only to avoid his father's pinch happy fingers.

If the act twinges his heart a bit, no one but Madara knows.

Hashirama moans long and low as they sink down onto soft bedding, back arching as one hand slips around his cock, hips twitching as slick fingers slip inside. Those fingers crook inside him and Hashirama tosses his head back to _breathe_.

Lips and fingers and tongues slide over his skin, and Hashirama drinks it all in and relishes the softness of it. He makes a punched out noise as a separate pair of fingers slide into his ass, jaw slack as he sighs his pleasure.

Legs shift up on either side of his hips and a hot ring of muscle welcomes his cockhead just as Madara's thickness slides slowly into him. He gasps, unable for a moment to do anything more than breathe through it all.

"Please," he sighs into the quiet breathing, fists clenching in the sheets. A sharp thrust into him from behind makes him grunt, and his ears flatten. Then there is stillness and a slower rocking into him.

Tajima keeps his legs up, one outstretched and within kicking distance of his son who _thankfully_ seems to understand at least a part of the seriousness of this.

Hashirama's cock never ceases to nearly overwhelm Tajima, and with _Madara_ controlling most of the gentle—but _deep_ —rocking, it's enough to make him twitch and think of unpleasant things in order to stave off orgasm.

Placing soft kisses on tan skin helps ground him, and Tajima rumbles in answer when Hashirama rumbles.

Madara is unsurprisingly the first to find completion, a hand wrapping around Tajima's ankle in warning. So Tajima gently clenches around Hashirama's cock, purring as the girthy member hits very pleasurable spots inside him.

Hashirama gives a choked off little groan and trembles as he holds himself up over Tajima. Their lips meet as Madara shifts away to get a cleaning cloth and give Hashirama room. The large stag pulls out gently and flops down next to Tajima.

Cleaning is done silently, with soft fingers trailing up and down skin, and only after Madara has worked his way underneath Hashirama's arm on his other side does Tajima break the comfortable silence with his whisper.

"Going up to the mountains soon?"

"Mmmm," he replies, so rough and deep it's almost a growl. He doesn’t want to think about this; about having to force himself away again. But it must be done. This was Tobirama’s first heat, and after the second or third he will almost certainly be fertile enough for Hashirama to—

"Yes," he reiterates, "I must."

With that he rolls out from between father and son, suddenly deeply unsettled, and prowls off to his kitten. Hashirama knows it's _rude_ to leave without a word, but he also knows they'll understand.

Tobirama is curled up where Hashirama left him, and is all too eager to roll into his arms. He doesn’t bother with dressing himself, simply luxuriates in the skin to skin contact and lets it lull him into sleep.

* * *

Tobirama surprises himself when he stretches and yawns and _bumps into something_. That something turns out to be Hashirama, still sleeping, for once. Tobirama trills questioningly, but receives nothing but a deep sigh. For a lack of anything better to do, he snuggles closer to that big chest, rewarded with an arm coming around him and pulling him in more.

Purring, Tobirama nearly misses the patter of feet outside the room. His eyes track the shadows until there’s a small _thump_ that makes his ears come forward in interest. Quickly, he shuffles backwards out of Hashirama’s hold and pads to the door, sliding it open to peer out into the hall.

“Ah, good morning Tobirama.” Tajima’s hand comes down to ruffle his hair and Tobirama chirrups up at him inquisitively. “I was just dropping off some supplies for you and Hashirama; you’ve got a long way to go.”

It’s then that Tobirama notices the large bag set on the ground, no doubt filled with all _kinds_ of things that he’s looking forward to investigating. His gaze snaps back to the tom and he doesn’t hesitate to cross the threshold to give the other a hug.

A chuckle and a hug back is what he gets and Tobirama purrs loudly. “Thank you.”

“So polite all of a sudden. Where’s that little fiery kitten gone to?”

Tobirama pouts and Tajima just ruffles his hair more, laughing.

“There you are. You be safe now, the mountains can be rather dangerous. You’ll watch your master’s back, yes?”

Tobirama blinks and quickly looks over his shoulder back where Hashirama is sleeping. He nods, and Tajima rumbles back in answer and pats his shoulder before walking off.

Staring until Tajima turns the corner out of sight, Tobirama tilts his head and wonders what kind of dangers there might be. And _mountains_. All questions he can ask of Hashirama once he wakes up. Nabbing the bag that’s surprisingly _heavy_ for its small size as Tobirama picks it up to bring it inside, his tail flicks in excitement.

He'll just take a quick peek inside.


	7. Chapter 7

Hashirama knows it's time when his antlers start to itch. They're still in full velvet, still soft and blunt, but he knows now that the sand is running. He needs to get them to their winter home before he finishes shedding for the autumn rut.

Luckily Tajima has been so kind as to provide them with supplies, and they're packed and ready to go before midday. Hashirama settles on the horse and tries not to reach up and scratch that infuriating itch. The very tips of his tines are out of reach as it is, so he would only appear foolish.

The mountain city Hashirama has in mind—and by extension the temple where he intends to leave Tobirama for his rut—are quite a ways away. But Hashirama is certain they will make good time, as long as the weather holds fair.

It’s true for almost all of his shed. Tobirama seems appeased by the fact that Hashirama has made it clear that if the velvety skin stays, Hashirama is going to go _mad_ and therefore elects to help him, and the weather doesn't do anything horrible beyond the usual autumn rain storms. The problem arises once they near the monastery.

Hashirama has forgotten just how quickly winter descends in the mountains. Autumn rains become sleet, which quickly turns to snow as they venture up into the temple pass.

Hashirama had been so certain that they could make it, that he could ensure the safety of his student, but he has failed to take the will of the gods and his collective bad karma into account.

By the time they reach the temple and Minato, a sweet fox, comes to greet them, there is a fire brewing in Hashirama’s belly. He wants to push on, to force his way to the city, but he knows better than to attempt the mountain pass in the grips of an early, harsh winter.

Minato assures him that the temple is sturdy, that he will hardly be the first elk in rut that it's seen, but Hashirama isn't convinced. He's already desperately hard, cock bouncing with every stride. A flutter of wind lifts Tobirama’s scent to his nose, and Hashirama is slavering in seconds, bladder and cock twinging.

He could stop them here, could bend Tobirama over the sill, yank his pants down and piss all over that hole, as is his _right_ —no!

By the time they reach their room Hashirama is half lost. Minato departs, and he's already shoving at his pants. His cock dangles free as Hashirama piles swaths of loose fabric in the corner and soaks them with urine.

He runs a finger idly up the length of his cock, and turns to his kitten with hunger burning in his belly.

Tobirama has seen Hashirama's cock before, this is hardly the first time. However, there seems to be something _different_ now, as he watches his master pee all over some of their dirty clothing. The air _feels_ different and the scent that Hashirama is putting out has Tobirama alert, watching.

Has him raising his tail and trilling questioningly when Hashirama turns his gaze towards him.

The smell alone makes Tobirama's belly squirm, and the sight of Hashirama running skilled fingers up his length only serves to make Tobirama's own twitch as wetness grows between his legs.

The fox who showed them to the room said to yell if he feels unsafe, but all Tobirama feels is curious, and _arousal_. 

He trills again when Hashirama hasn't said anything.

Hashirama knows the kitten has to go—soon, before he loses all hope of rational thought and morals. He's already drooling at the soft scent of arousal, of _interested omega_ , prick twitching and trailing strands of pre-come down to the floor.

His ears flick forward, and Tobirama makes that wonderful, sweet trill. Hashirama rumbles in return and steps forward, one hand lifting Tobirama’s sweet, round face to unite their lips in a kiss.

The first brush is brief, and Hashirama licks his lips to chase the taste of his kitten, a deep sound of pleasure resonating in his chest. The next is filthy, as Tobirama scales his body so that Hashirama may press him to the door with a groan.

He kisses and nibbles all down his kitten’s neck, both hands coming up to squeeze that pert backside as he ruts against his student. Tobirama isn't tall enough for Hashirama to grind them together _and_ kiss him, but any pressure is enough now.

_Stop this_ , he thinks hazily, _he is too young, too small, too tight to think about taking you_. But Hashirama _wants_. His cock aches with need, swollen turgid and almost painful with his desire.

Tobirama’s claws dig into his back, and Hashirama tosses his head back to moan low and loud, pre-come dribbling out in rapid bursts as his member twitches against the wood of the door.

Sharp little teeth nip at his throat and thighs wind around his sides, squeezing and squirming in his grasp. The silky fur of Tobirama’s tail brushes his cockhead, and Hashirama’s eyes roll with pleasure.

"Kitten," he rasps, broad palms and long fingers squeezing the firm ass in his grip, "we have to stop. You're not ready yet, you're still too small to rut with me, as I was too big to queen you."

Tobirama makes to protest, but Hashirama cuts him off with a fierce kiss, before thumping on the door in a way any monk would recognise. Minato is quick to the door, and Tobirama makes an angry noise as Hashirama dumps him outside and the wood slams between them.

* * *

Wood gives way under Tobirama’s claws as he plasters himself to the _locked_ door. His heart aches in a way he’s experienced only once before, when Hashirama said very similar words. But! But Hashirama _did_ help Tobirama with his heat.

His mournful, questioning yowl echoes down the hallway.

Why can’t _he_ help Hashirama? There are _other things_ , things that Tobirama knows about! They can help! _He_ can help!

“Come now, Tobirama, let’s give your master some space, hm?”

Tobirama hisses at the blond, tail lashing at the amused tilt of fluffy ears. They are similar to his own, but different in that there’s no tuft at the very tip. That tail is similarly different, in both shape and volume.

And there’s no mistaking the way it swishes over the polished floor.

Some deep part of Tobirama takes control of him, and his clothing is open before he knows it. Minato sounds a bit panicked, but Tobirama isn’t focused on that. Instead, the door gets a very thorough chin rubbing, his arms coming up to rub his wrists on every part he can reach.

Then Tobirama’s peeing, purring as the small stream hits the door and splatters elsewhere.

A hand clasps his scruff and Tobirama hisses, but it’s not nearly as vicious as it could be. Because _everyone_ will know that what lays behind that door is _his_.

And _that_ knowledge makes Tobirama’s tail curl in satisfaction.

Minato shakes his head at the kitten who, upon clothing him again and dropping him off in a different room, promptly attempts to climb out the window. Thankfully Sakumo, one of the older monks, is willing to watch the rascal.

With the kitten’s virtue safely assured underneath the silver wolf’s watch, Minato slinks through a small corridor and then a small tunnel to reach the sleeping quarters.

Should no one else be amenable to helping Hashirama, Minato himself will help.

He bypasses Fugaku’s room completely. The stubborn bear will put up too much resistance and wind up hurt.

As he passes a window, Minato stares out into the swirling white. _Although, it might be necessary for everyone to get involved, if the storm doesn’t let up_.

No matter. Despite the lack of availability to working ladies, Minato is sure that the temple will hold up—his fellow monks are just as dedicated as he himself is to ensuring the safety of everyone inside through whatever means necessary.

* * *

Hashirama is kneeling on the floor when the door opens, licking his mate's scent off his fingers, reveling in the slightly bitter taste of _claim_. That's for _him_ , the cries, the yowls, the piss on the floor is _his_.

Which is why he doesn't notice the beta in his room until the door bangs shut. His gaze snaps up to stare at the bare blonde fox crawling towards him with a wagging tail flattened in submission, and his nostrils flare.

He can smell _mate_ on the fox, and Hashirama scruffs him with a furious growl, sniffing him with an open mouth to taste the scent. The fox squeals and cries out submissively, tail a fluffy blur between them.

Hashirama presses him onto his back and sniffs vigorously between his legs, searching out any trace of scent beyond that on his torso. There's nothing more than what a brush may leave behind, and Hashirama grunts in satisfaction.

Then he flips the beta.

The fluffy orange tail is displaced immediately, and Hashirama has a clear view of the glittering, swollen pucker beyond. Still ramped up on alpha claiming aggression, Hashirama doesn't bother with foreplay.

His cockhead sinks in agonisingly slowly, clutched at by hot muscle. He grunts with it, deep and primal. At last the pointed head is sucked in, and Hashirama begins sharp humping to work the rest in.

In very immediate hindsight, Minato will admit that coming into the room of a rutting alpha _lapping up piss from off the floor_ and faintly smelling of what can only be their intended future mate was...not a very wise decision. He’ll have to warn the others once he limps—or _crawls_ , more likely—out of the room.

At least he had the foresight to prepare himself, if only a little bit, because _ow_. Hashirama’s cock is large, and it’s equally painful for _him_ as it is for Hashirama that not even half of the large cock can fit inside him, judging from the snarl and bruising grip on his hips.

But hormones are a powerful thing, and Minato can only wheeze as he’s pulled over that cock like a glorified plaything, and in a sense, that’s really what he’s here to be.

When the brutal thrusts stall, Minato lets out a silent sigh, only to squeak as he’s turned on his side and his leg is lifted over one of Hashirama’s shoulders. There’s a loud grunt as Hashirama hits deep inside Minato and causes him to clench, but then Hashirama’s thrusts begin anew.

Minato had nearly forgotten about the whole _no knot_ thing.

The groan that comes out of his mouth is both for that, and for the fact Hashirama has decided to push his limits further.

Hashirama seems to be chasing a pleasure that is impossible to reach. The fox takes him willingly enough, but Hashirama can only get three quarters of his cock in. He wants _more_ but also knows this is the wrong mate.

All the same he works himself to orgasm, again and again until his balls ache with it and his hair clings to his back. By the time the frenetic need for sex and violence has abated some, Hashirama is sore and tired.

He pulls out with a lewd slurp, come flooding out of the foxes fluttering, gaping hole to spill on the floor. He stretches out on the tatami, groaning at the tug of it on his antlers, and dips off to rest for a short while.

* * *

Tobirama paces along the windows, tail lashing. He’s not _too_ close to the windows, the cold isn’t something he’s all too eager to feel seep into his bones again. There’s another amused huff of laughter from the wolf watching him and Tobirama bares his teeth.

“Mhm, keep doing that kitten and I’m _sure_ you’ll get your way.” The monk’s voice is low, rumbling—but not as appealing as Hashirama’s is.

“Not kitten,” Tobirama spits out, “Not _your_ kitten.”

“Whatever you say, little one.”

Tobirama hisses and turns around to stare at the snow coming down, uncaring that he’s putting his back to the monk. His ears twitch with every little sound and he wonders if he’d be able to hear Hashirama if he tried hard enough.

* * *

It takes Minato a few moments to realize that Hashirama is _done_. He’s under no illusions that he’s done for the day, not with the marathon they just had. But he also knows that there’s no way he could do another one.

So he slips out, gingerly and uncaring that his robes are ripped and barely cover anything. Minato nearly winces when he opens the door and Hashirama makes a grumbling noise a few seconds later. The scent of Tobirama must rile Hashirama up.

_Through the bathroom, then_ , Minato thinks as he waits a few moments to make sure Hashirama is well and truly asleep before continuing on. The other monks are shocked when he comes stumbling into the common area, but are quick to help him.

“This is going to be a trying week, huh?” Minato attempts to lighten the mood.

“Let’s just hope it only _lasts_ a week.”

Minato groans at Fugaku’s words.

* * *

It all melts into flashes of sensory input, the taste of lips, the scent of come, the sound of his current partner moaning tiredly. Hashirama is hardly aware of anything for the majority of his rut beyond the burning dominance inside him and his rampant drive to mate.

He returns to himself with his back against a door, only half aware of the bear his still hard cock is buried in. The pungent scent of his marking permeates the air, and he can see streaks of it on the stone floor.

Under it all is omega spray, beckoning and sweet in a way that caresses his need to claim. He takes a deep breath to savour it all, licking his lips and leaning back to let his antlers scratch against the wood.

The bear in his lap shifts, and Hashirama gives him an irritable grunt and a yank by the scruff. His cock twitches, a thin stream of seed leaving him.

He has vague memories of calling his omega, and as if on cue, there's a soft mew from the other side of the door.

Tobirama hates hates _hates_ the wolf tasked with ‘watching’ him. He can barely go to the bathroom without being looked at. It’s absolutely _terrible_.

Especially when Tobirama knows that Hashirama is out there, suffering when Tobirama could be doing something.

It’s on the third day of being offered to play a board game that Tobirama reluctantly accepts the invitation, sitting just close enough but not _too_ close to the board Sakumo has set out. It’s also on this day that a loud roar—a _call_ —echoes through the halls.

Immediately Tobirama is up and at the door, tugging ineffectively at the locked door and yowling when Sakumo decides to _touch_ him. He’s tugged away by a strong grip on his waist, but not before Tobirama has freed his cock enough to start pissing on the door, a _welcome_ for Hashirama to find.

Sakumo tsks at him but Tobirama ignores the sound. Instead he wriggles about until there’s a large _thump_ that causes him to still, ears pricked and tail alert. Just as he’s about to call out, a hand is slapped over his mouth. Tobirama growls and bites the offending hand, but Sakumo holds firm.

There’s more noises then, panicked and Sakumo even joins in but Tobirama spares no attention towards them. He only has attention for the wet smacks and grunts of Hashirama he can hear.

The scratching on the other side sets Tobirama off, and Sakumo grabs for him as Tobirama scrabbles back towards the door.

“Shh, Tobirama, your master probably needs a bath, at the very least.”

Tobirama flicks his tail and staunchly ignores the wolf. But just in case, his inquisitive mew is softer than he typically does.

"Kitten," he croaks, an ear dipping to listen to the shuffle on the other side of the door. Another, louder, yowl, and Hashirama heaves a relieved sign, slumping and releasing the bear.

He wants to hold his omega, and in the midst of that overwhelming _need_ for the comfort of a small body, Hashirama doesn't even realise that he's crying. It's only once the bear, who has now staggered off Hashirama’s finally slowly softening member, offers him a square of rough silk that he notices.

They arrange for Tobirama to meet him in the baths, so that Hashirama can have time to clean up, covered in sweat, piss and come as he is. There's protesting from his kitten, but Hashirama reassures him.

When Hashirama has washed and settled in the outside hot springs, surrounded by snow and steam, then he lets Tobirama come to him.

Tobirama fights the hold Sakumo has on his wrists the entire way as he’s led to the hot springs, torn between wanting to get there faster, and scared he’s being thrown out into the cold despite the assurances that it’s simply an outdoor bath.

Standing in the doorway as the cold wind whips snow off the ground, Tobirama re-evaluates whether he wants to even take a _step_ outside. Flattening his ears, he scrunches his face and makes his way over to where hot steam rises. He enters the water, clothes and all, and paddles his way over to where Hashirama is sitting.

A scratchy laugh, but then a large hand comes down and ruffles his hair. Tobirama pushes up against the touch before pressing himself close. Hashirama doesn’t look at all rested, not at all how he remembers coming out of his heat like.

Perhaps rut is different? But either way—

“Next time I help.” It’s not a question, and Tobirama stares up into deep brown eyes and _holds_ the gaze, to show Hashirama he’s serious.

* * *

There's always a certain...pain to leaving dear friends. _It's even worse when the dear friend is a young kitten who you suddenly realize you're in love with_ , he thinks as he looks down at exactly that. Tobirama is looking up to him with wide eyes and lowered ears, and Hashirama has to take a deep breath to stop his resolve from crumbling at the sight of tears glimmering in those wine red eyes.

_It's for the b_ — he pauses in the middle of that thought, _no, it’s what must be done_. It's just the way of things, and it's what Hashirama himself was subjected to. It's time for Tobirama to complete his training with the self same smith that he was left with, and is where Tobirama will also forge his own samurai sword.

Hashirama chews the inside of his cheek and looks down at the once feral, scrappy little kitten that he found on the street. Tobirama has grown into a slightly larger, scrappy kitten with somewhat longer hair.

"You'll be alright, kitten, I'm not leaving forever."

Tobirama can’t help the betrayed feelings from rising inside him as Hashirama _leaves_. Sniffling, Tobirama stares after his master until he can no longer see him. Hashirama’s promise to return plays over and over in his head as he turns around to follow after the truly _ancient_ raccoon. The stripes on his tail are nearly the same colors!

But he is kind, in a way Tobirama likes to imagine a stern grandfather might be.

So Tobirama pads after him, allows him to hum and tsk as he circles around Tobirama when they enter the forge. Tobirama hisses when fingers reach out and pinch his arm.

“Well,” the old raccoon chuckles, “I think we can make a samurai out of you yet.”

Tobirama’s tail flicks with annoyance as he rubs his arm.

After picking out a lump of metal from a truly astonishing pile, Tobirama has to face his fear of fire—the fact it’s contained within a forge is no matter. But the heat lulls Tobirama to sleep faster than any other kind of fire he’s ever been around, and eventually he comes to enjoy the nights he spends heating his blade.

The real work Master Tan does, which surprises Tobirama at first.

However it becomes _painfully_ clear that Master Tan is more than just his appearance of a frail old man suggests. By the end of the first week, Tobirama flops down onto his bed and curls up to cry. It’s _much_ different here than with Hashirama, and he pulls one of the few scraps of fabric he has with Hashriama’s scent on it to fall asleep with.


	8. Chapter 8

It gets easier.

Tobirama learns skills he never thought he would need, and some highly useful ones. How to tie his hair up, how to suppress and enhance his scent, how to cook, how to wield a blade with honor.

Despite the exhausting months, Tobirama still finds time to think about Hashirama at the end of each day. He misses his master something _fierce_ but the trees have begun to sprout again, a sure sign of spring approaching and Hashirama returning.

His _clothes_ are another problem Tobirama thinks about during the days, because he _likes_ his clothes—clothes Hashirama has provided to him—but they simply don’t fit as they used to. His wrists and ankles show, and he begrudgingly wears the ones Master Tan provides because he values the warmth over the familiarity.

Especially when the old stubborn raccoon sends him out to _meditate_ on a raised rock in the front surrounded by wet snow. At least Tobirama is able to have a cushion.

Not ten minutes after he begins, however, he becomes distracted by the distinct sound of horse hooves. Indecision wars within him, because on one hand, it could simply be yet _another_ traveler—not a supplier, there’s no carriage—but there’s a possibility it could be _Hashirama_. Does he really want to get his hopes up for nothing?

Tobirama sighs and keeps his eyes closed. Master Tan would make him haul more firewood if he catches Tobirama distracted again.

* * *

It's been...well not solitary, because Hashirama has always had conquests aplenty. It has been _lonely_ , yes, that's the proper word for it. He tries not to think about it, tries not to notice the missing presence at his side, and it leaves an itch under his skin to return to that glorious presence. Tobirama is missing from him, and it's as though he's lost a limb.

Hashirama spends the year wandering, taking jobs as an executioner of bandits and apprehender of petty thieves. He visits Madara and enjoys the company of the two Uchiha before moving on. Still, the seasons shift and Hashirama and Genma trudge through flowers, grass, fallen leaves and snow. He takes a long, winding, circuitous root and allows himself to go out of the way for things like teas and spices.

It's during his long journey that he notices several of his fundoshi are _missing_ , and has to consider that his little kitten may have taken some. Not that Hashirama minds; he's quite flattered. It strokes his ego to know that the one he loves seeks a reminder.

He's ashamed to say he has trouble recognizing his kitten. So much trouble, in fact, that he completely passes Tobirama by as he heads up towards the smithy. It's only once he's tied up his horse in the stables and is walking down the path that he notices there's a pale tom sitting and meditating under the maple, and pauses.

Hashirama sniffs surreptitiously, ears turned forward as he considers. _It can't be_... He's been gone long, but the omega sitting in the shade, with the white hair and slender curves can't be his kitten. Except, perhaps...

Hashirama walks up to him, and kneels in the half-melted snow.

"Kitten?"

Tobirama’s eyes fly open at the sound of a voice he hasn’t heard in nearly a full year.

“Hashirama!”

Hauling firewood is the least of Tobirama’s worries as he throws himself forward off his cushion and hugs Hashirama. Instead, he worries over his unkempt hair—freshly washed but curling out of the plait he put it in earlier—and, of all things, his _hands_. Now sporting harder patches of skin along his palms from hours and hours of practice, Tobirama has never _been_ a stranger to working hands, but of all things that he can think about himself, his hands have changed the most.

He worries that Hashirama might not like them.

Because he’s learned _some_ manners, he only rubs his cheek against Hashirama’s once before taking a longer whiff of his scent and pulling back. He can’t quite keep his ears and tail from broadcasting his sheer _excitement_ at having Hashirama back—ears pricked up and fully facing Hashirama and tail curled high.

“Am so _happy_ you’re back.” Tobirama stares into Hashirama’s eyes for a moment longer before leaning forward and placing a light kiss on Hashirama’s lips.

"None of that nonsense," Hashirama growls, yanking Tobirama back into his arms so that he may kiss the boy’s head and hold him tight. "I've missed your lack of manners so much, kitten."

Only once Hashirama has only almost squeezed the life out of his little tom does he let go to stroke the ears Tobirama has finally grown into and lift the long, snowy hair up to admire.

"You're already a tom, aren't you kitten," he murmurs quietly and almost to himself. "All grown up. A samurai." Suddenly Hashirama realises just _how_ grown-up Tobirama is, folded comfortably in his lap and no longer the tiny, skinny stray he once was.

There are _curves_ to him now. Omega and subtle, but the light and perky swells of his breasts are there alongside the wider flare of his hips. His cheeks are rounded and his lips full, and Hashirama realises he can't kiss his kitten quite as he wants to. Not without worrying about _reacting_.

Quite suddenly Hashirama realises that while _he_ may still be very much in love with Tobirama, the reverse may not be true. So he strokes Tobirama’s ears and stands, and looks down at the young tom.

"Shall we go inside and have tea? I can't wait to hear what complaints you have about Tan-sama."

Tobirama quickly glances over towards the main house with a guilty flick of his ears. He _does_ have complaints about Master Tan but the sheer boldness of Hashirama _just saying that_ —

A soft whine escapes him as he looks back towards Hashirama with big, disbelieving eyes. Not even a minute into their reunion and Hashirama is already teasing him. At least Tobirama can be sure that Hashirama isn't going to treat him much differently despite the time that's passed, thankfully.

Tobirama walks as close as possible to Hashirama and takes hold of his hand. It feels safe and secure and when Hashirama turns to look down at him Tobirama blushes but stubbornly keeps his head held high and continues walking, tugging on Hashirama's arm.

Master Tan is already waiting with tea, shooting Tobirama a knowing look that Tobirama chooses to ignore, instead focusing on pushing Hashirama onto the comfy cushion and pouring him and Master Tan tea—demonstrating to Master Tan that _yes_ , he's learned something.

His tail flicks irritably as Master Tan purposefully offers Hashirama sugar and honey for his tea slowly, as he purposefully pours Tobirama's tea slowly.

With a huff, he finally plops down right onto Hashirama's crossed legs, ears flicking down at the tsk it earns him from Master Tan.

It's been a _whole year_ since Tobirama has seen and been around Hashirama. He would say he's _allowed_ to cling and want his attention.

Hashirama can't help the chuckle that escapes, dipping his head to hide the smile and smoothing a palm over the hand that comes to rest on his arm. "You're still so obstinate, Tan-sama. My master used to complain endlessly about it, and it's not changed."

Hashirama tries valiantly to ignore the interested stirring of his cock at the weight of that familiar-unfamiliar body alone. Of course Hashirama knew his kitten would grow, he just didn't expect to react to it like this.

They have tea, they eat, and soon Hashirama is wandering down the hall to bed. He's just donning his yukata when there's a knock, and Hashirama finds Tobirama at the door.

He doesn’t need to be asked—he shuts the door and turns to sweep his kitten up in a fervent kiss. It's been a year, and Tobirama is still...inexperienced. He can't help but twitch with lust.

Tobirama goes to Hashirama’s room with all the confidence his whole year-long abstinence affords him—and he’s rewarded with a searing kiss that curls his tail and toes. This kiss feels _right_ and Tobirama trills in excitement as he pushes himself closer to Hashirama.

It earns him a soft laugh, but Tobirama persists, chasing the taste of Hashirama’s lips until he’s suddenly grabbed and they’re _falling_ —

“ _Oof_.” Tobirama lands solidly on Hashirama’s lap as they both land on his bed. Tobirama’s tail lashes in annoyance at the stupidly handsome lopsided grin on Hashirama’s face.

In lieu of saying anything, Tobirama simply straddles Hashirama properly before digging his claws into his broad shoulders and leaning down for another kiss.

It's difficult to stop himself from getting lost in the kiss that is desperate and open, the body that moves like water against his own. Hashirama has wanted this for such a long time, it's almost impossible to remember the necessary denial he must make. Almost.

"Mmm, it's okay kitten, I'm here, it's alright," he whispers between them, stroking a hand down Tobirama’s back. It takes some doing, but he eventually manages to slow the franic kisses into a gentle rubbing of noses.

He reminds himself that Tobirama is his student, not his lover, and certainly not just another bed warmer for the night. Instead of acting on the throbbing erection between his legs, Hashirama rolls them to lie on their sides.

In the dim evening light of the lanterns he admires the spill of starlight hair that's come loose from its top knot, the snowy pale skin and the deep ruby eyes that watch him with wide pupils.

"Look at you," he murmurs reverently, "my kitten."

Tobirama’s never been more thankful to be able to see well in dim light. Unblinking, he takes in Hashirama’s features that sets a fluttering feeling inside him going.

“Missed Hashirama,” he sighs as he brings a hand up to trace along that strong jawline and up to one of those flop ears pointed in his direction, “Missed Hashirama a _lot_.”

Hashirama’s sigh tickles Tobirama’s face and Hashirama opens his mouth but Tobirama isn’t done talking.

“Can leave and be with you now?” Tobirama can’t help but ask, unsure of whether he actually _would_ stay, if Hashirama asks that of him. His ears are hopefully alert, and his tail curls up and around Hashirama’s wrist that’s resting on his side.

Hashirama looks at Tobirama, a hand raising to stroke those beautiful white ears. He sees the longing in Tobirama’s eyes, and he himself can't deny it—he has missed his kitten in this year apart.

"Of course, kitten. As soon as your sword has been forged, we will leave together."

It’s a huge risk; Hashirama’s rut has passed but Tobirama will go into heat every three months. He...may not be able to resist. Hashirama is determined not to chain his omega to him with a foal that he doesn't want as a constant reminder of a mistake.

"You want to be with me as a fellow samurai, or..." He trails off uncertainly, one ear swivelling back with nervous apprehension. Hashirama _does_ want more, but it will be on his kitten's terms.

Tobirama tilts his head at Hashirama’s words.

“Yes?” Now _Tobirama’s_ confused. “Be with Hashirama forever. Just Tobirama and Hashirama.”

And because Tobirama can’t help himself, he leans up and presses another kiss to Hashirama’s lips, tail curling as he begins to purr.

“Also like this?” Tobirama whispers into the scant space between their lips, opening his eyes a little to catch Hashirama’s gaze before pressing another, more incessant kiss to Hashirama’s lips.

Tobirama’s ears perk even further up at the faint rumble from Hashirama. His hands fly to Hashirama’s chest to _feel_ the sound just as it fades away. The rumble doesn’t start up again, but Tobirama _knows_ what he heard, and a warm feeling spreads to the tips of Tobirama’s toes to know that that sound was for _him_.

There’s a part of him that’s wholly satisfied that _he_ made Hashirama—an _alpha_ —make that noise. Tobirama purrs louder and squishes himself closer to Hashirama, letting the other _feel_ just how happy he is.

"Alright kitten," he whispers, the trapped rumble fluttering in his chest. Unfortunately Tobirama’s wriggling means he feels more than just the rumble being held captive.

His cock _aches_ , stone hard and throbbing against his hip. He really shouldn't—but surely a taste couldn't hurt. Just a little nibble for both of them, just so that Tobirama can understand what he would be getting into.

He rolls the squirming omega teen onto his back, and reaches between them to open his yukata and pull his cock up between Tobirama’s legs. Hashirama can _feel_ himself flush as his pre-come dribbles in a steady stream from his almost purple tip.

Instead of lingering on how he can feel the hot wetness of Tobirama’s feverish cunt, he parts the boy’s yukata to look at the ruddy red little cocklet at proud attention. He props himself up on his elbows and traps Tobirama’s legs between his thighs.

"Alright," he says again, leaning down to mouth at the boy's neck, "show me what you've learned about yourself."

Tobirama trills, delighted at the sudden manhandling and skin-to-skin contact. Tilting his head to give Hashirama more access is easy and he does so readily, breath hitching at the light kisses and nips.

A little clumsy, Tobirama works both his hands down to feel Hashirama's length getting his stomach all sticky with clear fluid. His hips move as much as they're able to with the hold on them, and despite how much Tobirama yearns to spread his legs, to open up where he's hot and wet, the pressure against his cocklet is sufficient.

So he works his hands over the silky and wet skin, shivering each time his hands reach nearer the base and brush against his cocklet. Several more passes and Tobirama is panting open-mouthed and he _wants_. Hashirama is still over him, rutting against him and it's _not enough_ but it's also _oh_ so good.

Tobirama whines and brings a hand up from where their hips are pressed together to grope at his chest, the small and soft mounds there as well as pinch his nipples. He whines again at a particularly harsh bite that causes a full body shiver. Wherever Hashirama just bit, Tobirama wants him to do it again, and _harder_.

Hashirama can't resist interspersing his kisses and nibbles with firmer sucks and bites to his kitten's shoulder as he gets closer to climax. He's aware he's grunting a little now, but it's not as loud as the wet slap of skin on skin made slick with Tobirama’s juices.

He hears Tobirama whine at him, and huffs as his hips pick up the pace. The teen bounces in his lap, and Hashirama opens his mouth to _grip_ , his sharper alphas teeth digging in to hold the omega close.

Tobirama yowls in his embrace, and the rush of hot come against his shaft and the violent jack-knifing is enough to tip him over too. He curls with the force of his orgasm, rutting a last few frantic thrusts as his seed spurts on white arcs onto Tobirama’s kimono—before he slumps.

Tobirama purrs as Hashirama grunts and flops down beside him. He’s already moving, already turning towards that strong chest to nuzzle and find the perfect spot to settle down for sleep. Hashirama’s breath tickles his ears, but Tobirama doesn’t mind—he enjoys the reminder that he’s not alone.

Hands shift and his name is said, but Tobirama disregards Hashirama, content instead to nose up Hashirama’s neck and rub his cheeks over his jaw. Now everyone will _know_ that Hashirama is his, and that thought causes Tobirama to purr even louder.

Eventually, however, Hashirama succeeds in pulling Tobirama off, and it’s only when Tobirama realizes that Hashirama is attempting to get his clothing off does he relent, releasing his claws from where they were dug into bronze skin.

Tobirama even allows Hashirama to wipe them down with only a few pointed tail lashes before he snuggles right back up to that gloriously hot chest, sans any clothing. He doesn’t need clothing, not when he’ll have Hashirama here to keep him warm. Plus he’s _tired_ , he doesn’t want to get up to find clothes—he just wants to sleep. Clothes can wait until the morning.

* * *

_I should not encourage him so_ , is the thought that lingers with Hashirama throughout the week they remain with Tan-san while Tobirama finishes his sword. It buzzes like an irksome midge in the back of his head throughout most of the day.

Hashirama shouldn't let Tobirama get away with stealing so many kisses, shouldn't bounce the boy on his lap and fuck his thighs in the evening as he explores those curves. He really shouldn't roll the kitten onto his belly and fuck up against that slender cocklet with two fingers in Tobirama's pussy and a thumb in the sensitive little pucker.

Of course when his kitten begs him (asks, once, quite quietly) if Hashirama could fuck his adorable little tits, he really should...not leap at the opportunity quite so eagerly. But Hashirama has a hard time denying the little omega, and it becomes quite apparent that he can't say no at _all_ when Tobirama looks up at him with desire in his eyes, face painted in streaks of white as he licks under Hashirama's pulsing cockhead to gather the profound amount of spilt seed.

The old blacksmith teases him endlessly about the week Butsuma spent here before they parted forever, filled with rampant rutting that left the whole house stinking of their sex. Hashirama doesn't feel bad for spitting tea on him, not in the slightest.

At last, after a long early morning ceremony and a hike to the shrine, Tobirama is sitting in front of him in Genma's saddle again. His hair, so much longer than it was when Hashirama cut it when they met, flows like white silk over his shoulder, and he cuddles back against Hashirama with a purr. They bid the old raccoon goodbye, and set off toward the nearest village.

Tobirama had forgotten just how uncomfortable sitting in a saddle for many hours was. Being a little bigger—at least in height, means that Tobirama’s thighs aren’t stretched quite so much, don’t ache as he remembers they used to.

It doesn’t stop Tobirama from attempting to pull pity from Hashirama, in hopes of getting a massage and potentially _more_. His plan is marginally successful, if only because he _does_ get very nice massages, he just annoyingly falls asleep every time before he can try anything.

At least Hashirama allows Tobirama the distinct pleasure of cozying up to his front while they ride, and Tobirama purrs and nuzzles him in thanks.

The urge to _mark_ is strong, and Tobirama has never gotten out of the habit of listening to his instincts. There’s conflicting instincts, however. Mark, yes. Touch? No.

Tobirama grows irritated with the slight brushes of contact with Hashirama, while at the same time he wants _more_ touch. It’s maddening and Tobirama doesn’t know what’s going on.

It comes to a head one night, when Tobirama demands a massage from Hashirama and Tobirama winds up sinking his teeth into Hashirama’s hand when it reaches his shoulder.

"Ow!"

Tobirama’s teeth really are quite sharp, and the unexpected bite leaves him with a bloodied hand and a growl in his throat. He knows something is wrong when instead of sheepish submission and apologies he receives an irritable growl from Tobirama and a lashing tail.

_Ah_ , he thinks, chuckling and ruffling Tobirama’s hair, _a proper heat_. He's not sure what they're going to do about it; perhaps find somewhere secluded where Hashirama can watch over and feed Tobirama, where nobody can take advantage of him.

Tobirama attempts to bat Hashirama’s hand away from his head while simultaneously craning his neck to push himself into the touch.

A warning growl comes out, low and quiet, which only leaves him confused. He stares at Hashirama as Hashirama wraps his hand up and is quick to look elsewhere when Hashirama’s head lifts.

Instead of finishing his massage, Hashirama sets himself down on the other side of the bed. Tobirama tries and fails not to feel upset over this.

So Tobirama does what he wants to and digs his claws into the blanket over Hashirama’s chest and only relents when Hashirama grunts at him and tugs the blanket open so Tobirama can snuggle up against his side.

The moment a hand comes around his waist he hisses and wriggles closer to Hashirama’s chest but away from the hand. There’s a long sigh that ghosts over the top of his head, but Tobirama probably feels more annoyed than Hashirama does!

Tobirama presses a soft kiss on the underside of Hashirama’s jaw before he throws a leg over Hashirama’s stomach and buries his face into the warm stretch of neck to fall asleep with the delightful scent filling his nose.

* * *

Hashirama decides to take his kitten, in which he can see all the signs of a proper adult heat, to an old maintained farmhouse. It's a little ways into the forest, and it will give them the privacy Tobirama will need to nest.

His kitten is quick to explore every nook and cranny as Hashirama prepares the room and checks the plumbing. He arrives back just in time to see the boy strip himself bare and roll around on the futon.

He makes a noise of surprise when Tobirama lifts his tail and it vibrates as he sprays a quick burst of pheromone laden urine that almost makes Hashirama moan. He adjusts himself quietly and affords Tobirama privacy to nest by going to bathe.

Tobirama doesn't really understand why Hashirama has taken them to a nicer barn, but he isn't complaining.

Especially not when he's worked his scent so thoroughly into the wood beams, into the fabric he's collected and piled up.

He's just rubbing his face over another one of Hashirama's fundoshi when he hears someone walk up behind him. So Tobirama growls as he grips the fabric between his teeth and turns to face—

The trilling mrow is accompanied by a high curling tail, and Tobirama shuffles to the bottom of the large bed he's on to be in front of Hashirama, large antlers and everything. And then Tobirama purrs loudly, turning around to press back against Hashirama's legs. He _feels_ his tail twitch and then satisfaction curls deep inside him as he sprays his most favorite person.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly Hashirama gets hard, but he's too busy panting and trying not to fuck his kitten to think about it. The heady scent of the boys marking clogs his nose, the wetness of it cooling against his calf.

His erection is tenting his yukata obscenely, and Hashirama can't help the spurt of pre-come that escapes into the fabric when he sees _his fundoshi_ in Tobirama’s mouth. If only the boy knew what a tempting picture he makes, tail up for Hashirama to admire him.

A gorgeous little pucker that Hashirama’s fingered a few times, and a pussy that's swollen so much it must be uncomfortable. The boy's cunt is pink, pussy lips plump and pressed together by his mound, trailing clear strings to his thighs.

_A little humping can't hurt_ , he whispers to himself, kneeling on the edge of the nest and crawling up over Tobirama. The motions are almost entirely instinctual, and hitches his hips bestially at the scent of an eager pussy.

_We've done this before, so just a little bit should be okay now_.

Tobirama is quick to drop his back and lift his hips more the moment he feels the bed dip. And then he’s torn between keeping the fundoshi in his mouth or letting it go so he can mouth at any part of Hashirama.

In the end, he winds up simply tilting his head back as a hand comes up to rub the underside of his chin. His purrs are loud and his eyes close as he starts kneading. He _wants_ and when something hot—even hotter than Tobirama himself feels—brushes between his thighs, Tobirama gasps.

Gasps, and then twists enough to sink his teeth into the nearest skin—sink his _claws_ into it as well.

Tobirama goes down yowling.

Large hands and a strong grip press him into the fabrics and just as Tobirama thinks attempting another bite is a good idea, his brain grinds to a halt at the first brush of lips on his shoulder.

Shaking, Tobirama doesn’t even breathe while the light touch continues. When it reaches the back of his neck, his hips stutter and he goes boneless.

"There it is," Hashirama murmurs quietly. Not _all_ omegas have a _thing_ for the spot at the back of their necks, and those that do are more often predator types than not, but there's never a guarantee. Butsuma, for example, was sensitive there and would react violently when Hashirama so much as nipped him there.

Tobirama, on the other hand, collapses into Hashirama’s arms. His hips stay up, tail raised and displaced, and Hashirama has to stop himself from pressing into the tight wetness that's offered.

He moans as he drives himself against Tobirama's belly, cock throbbing as he trails strings of pre-come between them. Hashirama can't help but mouth more along the soft skin, and brings a hand down to rub and pinch the kitten's little cocklet.

He really should just work Tobirama to orgasm, he should finger and stroke his kitten and do no more—but Hashirama _wants_. Tobirama is already dripping wet, slick soaking his cock as he brushes against the boy's pussy.

_Just once_ , he tells himself, _just as far as he wants and no further_. Hashirama carefully cants his hips up and slips a hand between them to slick his fingers, and trails them up to circle Tobirama’s little pucker.

It doesn't take long for him to work the boy open to two fingers, and Hashirama is careful to rub the firmness of his kitten's small prostate as he presses in a third. Before Hashirama knows it, his omega is shuddering and keening as Hashirama’s thumb slips inside, swallowed eagerly by the pink rim that flutters around his fist as it disappears inside.

When Hashirama withdraws his hand, Tobirama’s swollen pucker is gaping and distended, pink and wet and twitching with readiness. A few thrusts against the boy's pussy to slick himself, and Hashirama lines himself up.

It’s beautiful, watching his cock slip into the open bud. Tobirama’s rim contracts to meet him, and Hashirama pants with the urge to rut as his pointed cockhead disappears.

"So good, kitten. You're doing _so good_ ," he sighs, slowly shifting his hips. Tobirama yowls under him, and Hashirama slips his hand back down to stroke the little cocklet already slick with the omegas juices.

His kitten flutters and squeezes tight around him despite the stretch, and Hashirama stops pushing deeper once he's about half way. A moment to breathe, and he begins to fuck his omega with swift, sure strokes.

Tobirama purrs and gasps and rubs his face into the wonderful scented clothes underneath him as his alpha—as _Hashirama_ —pleasures him in new and exciting ways. His whines turn into high-pitched trills as he’s worked over several peaks, culminating in a groan and shiver as something _big_ enters him.

Instinct kicks in then, as Tobirama quickly grows overwhelmed at the very real feeling of _actual_ penetration. His chest drops to the bedding to arch his back even more, to cant his hips ever so much more. His tongue lolls out of his mouth as he pants.

“Haah,” Tobirama summons all of his energy to push his neck up, to _invite_ touch there as he attempts to get Hashirama’s attention again. “Hashirrrrama!”

The sensations of fingers gripping his hips, of the smooth and slick glide of Hashirama’s cock, are incredible. Tobirama can only purr louder and can’t stop as the sound _shifts_ in a way he can’t explain, but just _feels_ right.

The sound of an _omega’s purr_ sends Hashirama’s hips hammering uncontrollably, and it takes only a few pumps before the primal sound and sensation of their mating catapults Hashirama into orgasm. He buries himself as deep as he can, tips his head back, and roars his peak.

His whole body rocks with every spurt, and Hashirama’s head drops as vision narrows. When he can see again, his hips are still rocking with little splashes of seed, and his teeth have drawn blood around the back of Tobirama’s neck.

He lifts his head and props himself up on his fists, lips trailing bloody drool. He pants for a moment, chest thrumming with a low stags croon, before sitting up and slowly easing himself out.

It’s a good thing he has the wherewithal to shuck his yukata and spread it between them, because as his cock comes free with a wet sucking noise, his spend gushes out of Tobirama’s gaping pucker. He watches his kittens insides ripple and flutter, sending seed rushing down to mix with juices from his sopping cunt.

The beautiful, fluffy white tail flicks and curls and Hashirama gives his kitten deep, calming croons as that pink hole slowly ripples closed.

* * *

For all that Tobirama spends his heat on all fours—which quickly devolves into just his knees as his arms give out—he also spends a majority of it on his back, biting and scratching Hashirama bloody as his instincts peak with a fervor he can’t even _attempt_ to control.

By the end of it all, he finds himself curled up and clinging to Hashirama’s chest while a hand smoothes down his back. The tip of his tail flicks as he becomes more and more aware of himself again. He’s _sore_ which isn’t something that really happened with his last heat, but there’s more than just that—

Tobirama is upset.

But he doesn’t really know _why_ he’s upset—can’t even place whether it’s an angry upset or a sad upset, just: upset.

However he _does_ know that it’s Hashirama’s fault, whatever it is. So he rolls out from the embrace to stretch and winds up grooming himself unintentionally. It’s not a habit that happens very frequently anymore—not since he gained access to a hot bath whenever he wants—but one that comes out when he’s stressed.

Which apparently he is.

Not enough to bite at the hand that gently rubs over his very sore neck as he licks up flakes of dried come from between his legs, but enough that he licks a little more forcefully, a little more quickly as his tail starts to flick.

"Oh, kitten," Hashirama whispers, wanting to take his hand away but unable to deny the need of an alpha to see to his mate, "I'm so sorry. I wish I could have mated you properly, but you would no doubt be carrying kittens of your own if I had. I don't want you to waste something so important on me."

He wants so badly to pull Tobirama close, to comfort and kiss and convey just how sorry he is, but he can't. It would only make things worse, to push Tobirama now.

As upset as Tobirama is, he can't stop himself from glaring at Hashirama over his shoulder and pronouncing very, very clearly:

"Hashirama _never_ a waste."

And then he promptly goes back to cleaning himself up, ears flicking back to listen to Hashirama shift and sigh behind him.

* * *

The upset feelings fade over the next couple days, and by the time the next week rolls around he's back to clinging on Hashirama's arm as they walk through a village after checking into an inn, nose catching whiffs of new scents and his attention drawn several different ways.

At one point, he stops so suddenly Hashirama yelps at how his claws dig into his arm, but Tobirama is paying more attention to the delicious fat _tuna_ just laying there, waiting to be eaten.

The fisher seems particularly amused by his insistence to go over to their stall that he gives him a slice to try.

Tobirama says his thanks and licks the remnants off his fingers before looking up at Hashirama with pleading eyes, down turned ears, and a drooping tail.

They get a deal on some sashimi, and Tobirama purrs extra loudly as they continue walking.

_Manipulative brat_ , he thinks, watching the last of the tuna disappear behind pink lips as Hashirama himself stops for candied dandelion flowers and a bag full of mochi. It's a fond thought, because this is just how his kitten is, and Hashirama wouldn't change him for the world.

What he _would_ change is the staring. And the _flirting_ ; it's as though these idiotic teenage alphas don't have eyes in their sockets. One particularly brazen young ram dares to reach out to try and _touch_ , and Hashirama levels gleaming antlers at him, still bloody from their freshly shed velvet, with a deep growl of threat. It gets the message across.

It’s just as he's wondering if this is how it's going to be all the time, that there's a scuffing noise next to Tobirama and what obviously is a thief tries to push passed his kitten. Hashirama is about to react—

When Tobirama’s foot flashes out. There's the pop of dislocation, and the fleeing sparrow goes down with a shriek. The owner of the stolen purse brings with them the town guard, and he and Tobirama turn away.

_It seems he's grown up_ , he thinks as the crashing realisation that he's irrevocably in love rears it's head. 

All the same he can't help but want to care for the omega. It's only a week later that he realises he got so distracted that he didn't realise what was going on, and by the time it dawns on him reversing course would be detrimental to Tobirama’s mental health. And his own.


	9. Chapter 9

Hashirama has secured them a private little cottage in the woods, not too far from a natural onsen. His kitten is in pre-heat, and Hashirama is so focused on him that he doesn't realise his rut is upon them until he's pissing against the engawa post in territorial claim.

Tobirama pats the bedding down until it's _just_ the right thickness and softness and—

Pausing, he takes a few sniffs and lets out a noise of irritation. It doesn't _smell_ good enough. So he rubs his chin and jaw against the fabrics, and when that's not enough, he strips down to rub his sensitive pussy and cocklet against his nest. It hurts, but it must be done.

Another few sniffs and he's satisfied that it smells sufficiently of him. But not of Hashirama.

He mrows questioningly as he pads through the cottage to where Hashirama's bag of supplies is to grab out more clothes, bringing the heavily scented shirts up to rub against his face while he crouches there.

The door opens and Tobirama's tail lifts and curls questioningly as he stares at Hashirama.

But the scent rolling off Hashirama is too delectable to resist, and he's on his feet walking over to him before he knows it.

"Hashirrrrama?" Tobirama takes a long sniff, before taking another step closer and pulling Hashirama's shirt until he leans down.

Tobirama rubs his chin over _both_ sides of Hashirama's powerful jaw, purring when Hashirama growls lightly and nips his lips before kissing them. Tobirama got his scent claim, that's good enough for him.

"Kitten," he rumbles, dragging his lips from the embrace of Tobirama’s own to mouth at the boy's neck. His teeth, bared with burning feral desire, press against bare skin.

He feels the shape of his omega’s gland, already swelling with Tobirama’s heat, give tenderly under his mating teeth. His tongue follows, licking up the sweetness of Tobirama's oncoming heat.

His cock is turgid with his lust, throbbing in time with his pulse, and he can't resist rubbing Tobirama’s pussy against it. _This belongs to me_ , his inner alpha hisses, ready to mate and impregnate the omega he's loved for years.

But Hashirama clings to his faculties, pressing his kitten up against the door and rutting slowly. "Tobirama," he pants, licking his way to a bobbing throat, "I want to have you as I did last time."

He _knows_ the sweet, lush pussy of this omega is not for him.

Tobirama shivers as Hashirama's words rumble across his skin, electrifying. The thoughts they spark cause Tobirama to cling, to dig his claws into Hashirama.

All he can do is nod, his neck throbbing pleasantly and causing his cunt to flutter. It takes only a second for him to jump and wrap his legs around Hashirama, purring as he's immediately supported.

He reciprocates the bite he received—multiple times. And just for good measure, as soon as his back touches the softness of his nest, he kicks out with his feet, rapid fire.

Tobirama's blood pounds at the way Hashirama—alpha _alpha **alpha**_ —catches his ankles. The challenge that Hashirama isn't running away from.

Tobirama's flexibility gives him an edge in their wrestling, but Hashirama's strength eventually wins as his hips get caught and teeth nip at his neck.

Whining, Tobirama shifts his tail to the side, chest already down against his nest in preparation for Hashirama to take him.

_Control, control, control_ , rings in his head, and the need to reach for lube to slowly work his kitten open and slick gives his blood time to cool a little, but not enough that the cunt below isn't almost too tempting to resist. All the same, he breathes through it and lines his cockhead up with Tobirama’s hastily stretched pucker.

The hot sheath of it was out of this world when he had Tobirama during his last heat, but now it's like heaven. The tight squeeze, the sweet clutching and fluttering, it all works to fray his control.

Hashirama forces himself to go slowly, to ease into his kitten. He intersperses opening thrusts with slow rocking and gentle kisses and nuzzles to those soft ears, sweat stinging the scratches on his belly in a manner that makes his spine tingle.

At last he bottoms out, hips flush against Tobirama's gorgeous backside. He's panting like a wild animal, snorting with exertion and shaking with restraint.

Tobirama arches his back with a gasp, one hand kneading the bedding while the other is shoved down his front.

His cocklet is swollen and sensitive as he brushes past it to his wet cunt, and he can only rub against it a few times before he stretches and reaches further back.

The heavy weight of Hashirama's balls feel incredible, especially how they're right up against his entrance, and touching them causes Hashirama to jerk, which only makes Tobirama moan and his tail twitch.

He can't help it, the way Hashirama grinds back in, he feels his tail do a quick shudder before he sprays, his scent filling the air and splashing against his hand as he gropes Hashirama's balls some more.

Tobirama whines at the lack of motion, and thinks about moving _himself_ when he finally gets a reaction, and he _yowls_ as Hashirama starts fucking into him.

"Oh kami," he grunts, slavering at the smack of their thighs and the song of Tobirama’s pleasure. The slender fingers on his balls, the hot wash of piss against the sensitive skin; he can't help his reaction.

Bared mating teeth snap next to Tobirama’s ear, and his chest rumbles with a growl. Something is growing inside him, something more than just an orgasm, and Hashirama chases towards it eagerly with every thrust.

His peak approaches, and Hashirama rushes to meet it, driving into Tobirama’s eager hole with punishing thrusts. A small voice in the back of his head warns him to be careful, but he ignores it in favour of _faster_ and _deeper_.

It’s not long before he spills himself with a moan, thrusts slowing to jerky rocking as his cock spurts inside his mate. His teeth snap closed, clenching with want to bite, and Hashirama is too lost in the bright fire of emptying himself into Tobirama’s ass to register the last tattered shreds of his control fluttering from his grasp.

He is _alpha_ and he's chosen his mate and fawn mother.

* * *

Tobirama shivers and pants as he's pounded into until the thrusts stop and Tobirama whines as he's held still by strong hands, because he wants to wriggle, wants to get the ache where he _should_ ache—wants to roll over and rub himself against the sheets so he knows he's going to carry.

Ultimately he winds up mrowing his displeasure, hissing when Hashirama's hands come off him and biting one of them. It sets off a chain reaction where Hashirama—where _alpha_ growls at him and puts one large hand between his shoulders to keep him pinned down. Where the slowing thrusts pick up again until, with a lewd sound, Tobirama is suddenly empty.

It causes him to thrash about harder, hissing and growling around the chunk of hand he's sunk his little fangs into until the pressure goes _lower_ and instincts cause him to still. Cause him to quiver in anticipation and release the hand in favor of licking up the spilled blood, of purring and trilling when that hand gets pulled away.

 _Finally_ the aching throb gets attended to, and Tobirama gasps and keeps his tail _well_ out of the way as fingers get pushed roughly into his empty cunt.

Hashirama is almost too impatient to open his mate up properly, but he doesn't want to hurt the omega. Instead he uses the time to make sure his kitten is wet and ready to be mated, coming down to brace himself on one hand as he works.

Three fingers in and he can't wait anymore. He withdraws them, slick and sticky, and lowers himself to press against Tobirama's back. Like this it's easy to line up, aiming his cock with the tension in his abdomen, and sliding home.

He was wrong. _This_ is heaven; hot and wet and tight enough to _hurt_. It's glorious, and moans his approval above his mate, back arching and hips jerking down to claim what's _his_.

He licks up a sweaty neck, moaning and groaning like an animal as he humps his mate, cock inching in deeper and deeper. His balls are already tense with need, and Hashirama reaches down to wrap a hand around a slim throat, easing his omegas head up and baring swollen scent glands.

He's quick to lave them with his tongue and suck at the heady musky sweetness of pure omega heat pheromones, eyes rolling with lust as his cock pumps a few spurts of pre-come deep inside his mate.

Another suckle, and Hashirama begins to rut his doe.

Tobirama can do nothing but pant and purr as bright flashes of pleasure burst behind his eyes. As his _alpha_ finally slides deep and covers his back. As a large hand cradles his neck and jaw and moves his head.

As his alpha begins to _really_ mate him.

Squirming is out of the question, with how much Hashirama blankets his back and the strong grip, but Tobirama can—and certainly _does_ —cant his hips back so that Hashirama slides just a little bit deeper with each thrust.

They're starting to lean more towards _pressure_ than pleasure, but Tobirama doesn't stop. Simply whines more and more and _wants_ , clenching and fluttering around the thickness inside him.

Hashirama can't stop himself. The scent of aroused, _receptive_ and _fertile_ omega is far too tempting. It draws out that dark and greedy side of his alpha self, and he can't help but push deeper and deeper into his mate.

He's drooling, pheromone rich mating saliva smearing over Tobirama’s skin. His omega presses eagerly back against him, hips tipping to meet his thrusts, and Hashirama rewards his mate with a growl.

Two thirds of the way in, and Hashirama is bumping against a wall inside his mate. He gets a yowl for it, but a deep rumble quiets the omega.

Hashirama's not stopping until he's balls deep. He's going to mate his omega _properly_ , again and again until Tobirama is carrying his fawn. He will _make_ Tobirama fit.

Tobirama growls as the pressure spikes towards pain again, only to receive another rumble and an open mouthed kiss along his jaw. He whines instead, trembling at the intensity and turning his head towards the comforting scent of his alpha.

His breath hitches as the pressure builds and instead of pulling out, Hashirama _pushes in_. It's a steady rise of pain and Tobirama lashes out, claws ripping up the bedding and teeth snapping as a large yowl escapes him.

And then, it stops. The pain is still there, but much less and with each throb only grows dimmer. A single sob works its way out of him and Hashirama is quick to nose up his jaw, to lap at the drool collected there and then he's kissing away the few stray tears before giving Tobirama a searing kiss.

Tobirama enjoys a quick nuzzle before Hashirama worries more teeth marks into his neck, which relaxes him far faster than simply breathing would.

The small grinds gradually turn into longer and faster thrusts as Tobirama takes _all_ of his alpha's cock. It doesn't take long for the pleasure to overtake the pain again, for Tobirama to be softly purring and gasping for Hashirama.

* * *

This is how it's supposed to be; his omega under him, hot and tight, cunt clutching at Hashirama’s cock and the pressure of a welcoming cervix under his cockhead. He moans, the beckoning glittering of an enormous orgasm looming over him.

He chases the pleasure, thrusts sharp and deep, teeth grazing Tobirama’s bared glands. He's going to mate his kitten, he's going to _mate_ them, and when the fawn arrives they'll be a perfect family.

He doesn’t last long after that thought, fucking turned frantic by his rut. His grunts of pleasure become long stags bellows of claim, and as his peak descends upon him, Hashirama sinks his teeth in for a mating bite.

His vision blackens as his member pulses, and Hashirama collapses onto his forearms, hips still jumping with the most base of instincts to _breed_ , even as his mind slips away. When he comes to, it's to mad hissing and feral claws ripping him bloody, and Hashirama rolls onto his side obligingly so his omega isn't squashed.

Tobirama feels like he's floating on a cloud—an intensely _rocking_ cloud, but his brain is pleasantly fogged by pleasure. He cries out as he finishes, his pussy fluttering and clenching to keep his alpha inside.

And then _Hashirama_ finishes, and the spots of pleasure grow bigger and brighter as a sharp pain radiates from his neck. It feels _right_. Tobirama basks in the feeling until a more pressing issue arises.

The claws come out then as instincts tell him to keep himself safe, to keep the potential kittens safe, to remind the alpha that _he's still here_.

Once freed, Tobirama hesitates again, torn between the need to roll over to keep his hips up and staying put with Hashirama's cock in him. Ultimately he stays put, unwilling to part from Hashirama. Instead he tilts his head back until he can lap at Hashirama's jaw until Hashirama gets the message and starts grooming him back, paying special attention to his neck.

Tobirama purrs happily and loudly as he tugs on Hashirama's arm until it curls around him.

His rut passes in a blur of sleep, fucking and orgasms, like blinding lights and deep darkness flashing by. He gives Tobirama what is probably far too many mating bites, until his kittens shoulders are scabbed over with his teeth marks.

A week goes by during which he fucks Tobirama in every position imaginable, and Hashirama will never forget his kitten's adorable attempts at riding his cock. It had, of course, quickly become apparent that Hashirama was just too big, and soon Tobirama had been bouncing on his lap as Hashirama hammered him from below.

That is not to say that he's not been left with his own myriad of marks. His chest, belly, thighs, back and ass took the brunt of it and served as Tobirama’s scratchpads, and Hashirama is proud of what will undoubtedly become many, many scars.

Now he wakes slowly to gentle licks at his nipple, mostly clean after a half conscious wash after the last round of slow love the previous night. He smiles down at hooded red eyes, a deep croon rumbling in his chest.

"Good morning kitten."

Tobirama's tail curls up at the loving tone Hashirama uses and he trills happily at him. It earns him a chuckle, and Tobirama pushes himself further onto that broad chest so that he can place kisses all along Hashirama's face and lips.

"Was good. Felt _right_."

Despite how he aches, that was the most satisfying heat he's _ever_ had, and to think all he had to do was wait until Hashirama had his rut.

Tobirama blinks.

Then he lifts himself up to peer down straight into Hashirama's eyes as his worry comes out.

"Have to do that again? Forrrr Hashirama?"

Tobirama doesn't know whether he would be able to handle several more weeks of what just happened.

"Do this again? For me?"

Hashirama doesn't understand, and his confusion stirs the rest of his brain to life. The guilt comes crashing down, sinking like a stone in his gut as he realises what he's _stolen_ from his student, from his greatest love.

"Tobirama, I'm so sorry—"

The slap that comes to meet his apology has enough strength behind it to fling his head to one side, antlers clattering against the floor. Hashirama cups his burning cheek, mouth gaping in shock at his omega.

Tobirama raises his hand again in warning, tail lashing and ears back as Hashirama—as his _alpha_ —gapes at him.

Apology? He doesn't want one!

"No, Hashirama." Tobirama slaps a hand down over Hashirama's mouth as it opens again to no doubt say something _more_ stupid.

Another few moments where Tobirama's tail violently twitches and he simply _breathes_. He's going to spell it out for Hashirama. Very. Clearly.

"I love you, want you, Hashirama." Tobirama grips Hashirama's mouth and jaw, squishing it between his grip. " _No mistake_."

And then Tobirama leans down and kisses Hashirama, before biting those lips that start moving just because he's _mad_ that Hashirama wants to apologize.

He gives Hashirama a lighter smack before setting about standing up, groaning at the aches. Halfway through stretching out his back, he looks down towards where Hashirama has yet to move.

"Well? Need a massage. Alpha's fault, alpha massages. Hot bath first."

Tobirama gently kicks Hashirama so he'll _start moving_ before he turns and waddles his way towards the onsen.

"Come _on_ , Alpha." Tobirama shouts but doesn't look back, annoyed as he doesn't hear Hashirama following.

It is an extremely common mistake; so many think that it is the alpha who is in charge, that they have but to speak and the omega will leap to obey. In point of fact, the opposite is true; the omega need only hint at their desires and their alpha mate will scramble to bring them into fruition.

Hashirama _would_ scramble, his instincts are certainly screaming at him to do so, but he's been waylaid by the shock of Tobirama’s admission. Tobirama _loves_ him, in _that_ way!

His kitten is still young, but perhaps Hashirama can earn this love as a permanence between them. He starts by scrambling to give his mate the massage he demanded.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the love and support, you all are amazing! :D

What follows is Hashirama’s utter devotion to his mate. He cooks for Tobirama, all his favourite foods, he dotes upon his mate with gifts, and he keeps all other alphas _well away_ once they return to town. They won't know if Tobirama is pregnant until his next heat, but Hashirama is determined to play the part all the same.

Tobirama isn't sure whether he's more annoyed or more charmed at the way Hashirama seems to take any little hint—whether Tobirama is doing it on purpose or not—to give him anything and everything.

He looks too long at a food stall? They start walking towards it and Hashirama buys him things.

He stretches a couple of times? Hashirama gives him a massage.

Tobirama isn't used to being the center of someone's _entire_ focus, and he feels incredibly out of his depth. This is why he's currently laying down, the tip of his tail twitching as he waits for Hashirama to return.

The door opens and Hashirama walks in with his arms full of food. Tobirama's stomach growls traitorously. Despite the years it has been since he's been on his own, he can't help but remember the gnawing hunger.

Food first, then perhaps a nap.

Tobirama tugs him down for a cuddle, and Hashirama goes, settling against his omega’s back. That's just how it is now. His brain is firmly in 'alpha provider' mode, and he knows he'd run himself ragged to look after his mate. Luckily that's unnecessary.

Idly Hashirama wonders when Tobirama’s next heat is, so that he can get them to a safe place to spend it, and then his brain stutters. He counts, carefully, and then he counts _again_ , wondering if he's made a mistake.

Absently his hand moves to his mate's belly as he tucks his nose in close for a gentle nuzzle, and Hashirama can't help but sniff and snuffle a little. And then sniff a little deeper, because _there it is_.

A thin whiff of pregnant mate, and immediately he begins to cry soft, quiet tears of joy against the back of his kitten's neck. His _pregnant_ kitten. The omega who he found on the streets and is now deeply in love with is carrying _his fawn_.

"I love you so much Tobirama," he whispers wetly.

Tobirama is halfway asleep when Hashirama speaks. He trills in answer and links their hands together over his belly.

Then something _wet_ hits his sensitive neck and he jerks a little. Hashirama is _crying_ when Tobirama turns his head to look.

"Love Hashirama too," Tobirama says, confused about the tears. "Why crying? Get us all _wet_."

Tobirama pulls a face. " _Cold_ wet."

His hand is caught in a vice grip over his belly and his other hand can't reach, so instead Tobirama leans up and laps at the streaks of salty tears before giving Hashirama a kiss that quickly turns from chaste to a deep, slow languid kiss which leaves Tobirama breathless.

Just as Tobirama opens his mouth to ask for another kiss, his stomach growls. Hashirama _leaps_ out of the bed, leaving him all _cold_.

Yowling he rolls himself up in all of the covers just to spite Hashirama. But the spite rolls right off those broad shoulders as Hashirama comes back with a tray full of food.

Tobirama glares at him for a few moments, because he was comfortable! He wasn't _hungry_ hungry! He could have waited!

Inevitably, he winds up sitting up and eating.

* * *

He is, if it's even possible, _more_ attentive. Tobirama doesn’t take a step without him there, and Hashirama makes sure that he takes enough exercise to be healthy and no more.

He also makes sure Tobirama eats, and is constantly providing his kitten with tidbits and snacks between their larger meals. Hashirama reads every scrap of information he can on feline pregnancy and follows it all to the letter.

Which is why Tobirama is currently so angry with him. "I'm sorry kitten, but no raw fish now. It's not good for you and the baby. When you've had the fawn, I'll take you out for fish. I'll catch it myself if I have to!"

Tobirama makes no move to show he's been listening to Hashirama. His ears are still pinned back in displeasure and he's still not looking at Hashirama.

Cooked fish just doesn't have the same _taste_ as raw.

A hand in his peripheral makes him let out a warning growl. He _will_ bite, if Hashirama continues to poke at him. It's bad enough Hashirama wants to carry him everywhere, wash him, clothe him, and do everything else for him.

At least Tobirama's not big enough yet that he needs help using the bathroom. As it is he's been shying away from Hashirama helping him. Not because he doesn't _trust_ Hashirama, but because he's noticed that his body has changed—again—and doesn't want Hashirama to really know, in case he finds him distasteful.

Tobirama thinks that the changes to his chest are probably more acceptable than where his stomach has started growing so much, there are red, angry lines. There are some on his chest, too, but those are much smaller and not nearly as numerous.

Hashirama spends time gently cupping and massaging his breasts while they lie in the dark and cuddle, so Tobirama is sure that _that_ new part of him is acceptable.

Sighing, Tobirama drops his head to the table, his arms serving as his pillow.

To make up for angering his mate so, once they've finished their meal, Hashirama guides Tobirama off to bed. There he relaxes his mate with slow, gentle kisses and loving scenting, before he begins to peel open Tobirama’s yukata.

He's noticed, of course, how shy Tobirama has suddenly become around him, and it's even more evident now as his mate curls up to hide himself. That simply will not do; he's waited months to see the slowly growing belly.

So he moves his mate’s hands aside, gently stretching him out. Tobirama stutters at him, seemingly uncertain whether Hashirama will like the changes his body has undergone, and Hashirama is very quick to prove that he _does_.

Rather than say anything, he lies down between his mates legs and dips his head to kiss the red stretch marks that sprawl like lightning over Tobirama’s skin. He loses himself in the touch, hands stroking and caressing, and before he knows it, he's licking those marks.

Tobirama, after several moments shaking, relaxes underneath Hashirama's warm touch. He's still uncertain, but Hashirama is _very_ thorough, even going as far as to swipe a tongue up the sides of his belly. Tobirama makes a small sound at that and looks down towards Hashirama's smiling face.

"I have to say, I'm a fan of the new stripes, little tiger."

Tobirama elects to not respond and instead shows Hashirama that _he's still quite flexible_ with a heel to the back of Hashirama's head. And his alpha has the gall to laugh at him.

So Tobirama fists that brown hair and shoves him further between his legs, moving his handholds to the newly coming in antlers to shove Hashirama more.

There's still a smile on those lips as they kiss his sensitive areas, but Tobirama considers it a win, regardless.

Tobirama _tastes_ different as well, and Hashirama can't help but chase it as he licks between dampening folds, and sucks his cocklet. He groans at the tug on his antlers, so sensitive now in their early growth.

He spends the evening licking his mate to peak after peak until he falls asleep. Then he sets about packing. Hashirama only trusts two people with the safety, and the trip to Madara's is a long one in spring.

* * *

They set out, and on the way he gets to watch Tobirama’s belly grow and grow and _grow_ as he gets closer and closer to giving birth. By the time they arrive in the city, Tobirama has to ride side saddle on a cushion.

It irks him that he can't hide his mate, especially from all the alphas who catch a whiff of his pregnant mate. It sets his teeth on edge, and Hashirama does his best to hurry.

Tajima is waiting for them at the doors, and Hashirama lifts his mate down from the saddle.

"I...I need a safe place for him, please?"

"Of course, you're always welcome." Tajima says, studiously keeping his eyes from lingering long over Tobirama's new, ah, _shape_.

Hashirama looks _pained_ , and Tajima ushers them inside so that they can have the walls between them and the rest of the city. Tobirama is the one to make the first move, now a good head taller than he was the last time Tajima saw him. Tajima keeps his hands light as he returns Tobirama's hug.

"Some food, and then logistics?" Tajima's already walking towards the sitting area as he talks, knowing full well that he'll be followed.

Madara is in there, and Tajima gets a gleeful front row seat to his shocked face, which morphs into distaste and, when Hashirama growls, a polite neutral expression. Tajima settles himself next to his son and refuses to acknowledge the stares from his eldest.

* * *

Tobirama begrudgingly accepts more and more help as he gets bigger and bigger. But Hashirama is a very attentive mate, and Tobirama doesn't want for much.

Except the room he's been placed in feels too open, his instincts on high alert as he shuffles about on the bed and under covers while Hashirama is out getting him food.

Tobirama bares his little fangs at the room as another wave of pain hits him. And that's really the final straw.

In a fit, he collects as much of the bedding and assorted clothes as he can gather, shamelessly slipping on Hashirama's clothing over his own just so he can carry more. Then he sets off, sniffing and cracking open every door he passes until he comes upon a sitting room where Tajima is.

Tobirama stares from between the crack, sees the way Tajima's ear has tracked the sound of the door but Tajima makes no moves aside from drinking his tea. Another few moments of observation before Tobirama lets himself into the room, panting.

He doesn't hear Tajima's softly spoken question, doesn't care as he goes face-first underneath the kotatsu and brings all the bedding down with him.

There's an alarmed little noise that makes Tobirama pause, and then he growls as hands go under the kotatsu. They still for a moment, before slowly moving the charcoal brazier from its place on the floor of the pit to a latch on the underside of the table.

Tobirama watches avidly until another wave of pain hits and instincts tell him to continue building his birthing den.

When Hashirama comes back and sees his kitten is _missing_ , the tray of food falls from his hand with a crash. He calls for his mate, turning this way and that as he searches for his mate.

He stumbles on a bit of fabric, and Hashirama looks down at it, and spots the trail leading out. He sprints to follow, dashing down the hall and calling for his mate—until he finds Tajima at the kotatsu and the end of one of his yukata sticking out under the blanket.

Hashirama almost knocks Tajima over, who is sitting with his _hand under the table_ and doesn't get out of the way quickly enough. He snarls at the other alpha, whose tail is a big salt and pepper brush behind him, and kneels next to the kotatsu.

Even at half their size, his velvet covered antlers are too large for Hashirama to put his head under the table. Instead of _lift it_ like he wants to but would only upset his mate, he lifts the blanket to peer in and take great huffs of the scent of a mate who is _safe_.

Tobirama, who was simply enjoying some gentle head scratches from Tajima, is understandably annoyed when Tajima _stops_ and then both light and cold air are let in when Hashirama lifts the blanket up.

Even in pain that's coming in waves, Tobirama musters the strength to fling a hand towards the opening and his hand meets flesh with a loud _smack_.

There's a shout of surprise, the blanket drops, and muffled laughter.

Tobirama is about to pull his hand back when a large hand catches it and brings Hashirama's scent with it.

Sighing, Tobirama finally allows his body to relax, knowing that _his_ alpha is here, and will look after him.

Hashirama sits next to Tajima with one hand holding Tobirama’s as he pants, and waits. And waits. And _waits_. There's no screaming, no crying, so obviously Tobirama hasn't given birth yet.

When the shrill cry of an infant finally _does_ rend the air, Hashirama has to reach down with his other hand and receives his fawn from under the blanket. A little doe, all her mother and completely free of young spots, ears down and tail a small white nub.

Hashirama holds her close as she thrashes and grabs out, and the pinky finger he offers her is far too big for her to wrap her hand around but she grabs it nonetheless. He can't help but cry as she quiets a little, one ear flicking to track Madara where he's appeared during the long wait.

He's crying, the image of his little girl misted through tears, and he only comes back to himself when Tobirama’s head appears under the blankets.

Tobirama, used to allowing his instincts to guide him, does so now as well, and he's quick to collect his kitten from between his legs after silently pushing them out. A quick, perfunctory cat bath and then he guides them to latch onto his chest.

The second kitten goes just like that as well.

The _third_ kitten, however, comes and must wait for their siblings to finish, and is subject to a thorough bath, instead.

_She_ cries, and Tobirama scents her before allowing his mate to hold her. Then he turns his attentions back towards his suckling kittens, cleaning both of them off thoroughly before sticking his head out of the kotatsu.

Hashirama looks a mess, crying as he is, and Tobirama trills up at him to get his attention. Hashirama's mouth descends on him and Tobirama struggles to turn his head away without the hands to _push_ Hashirama away.

His request to get his third kitten back is accepted with a sniffle, and Tobirama shuffles a bit until he's able to bring the other kittens up one at a time. It's still much too bright, much too loud, and Tobirama goes back under the kotatsu once he sees Hashirama has a good support of them both.

"It's the size of my fundoshi drawer under there, where does he hide all of them? How'd you even fit all of them into his little body, Hashirama?"

He growls at Madara's smartassing, warbly and watery, and he has to sniff shortly after to stop himself from getting snot on the adorable tiny kittens who have _fawn spots_.

He removes his yukata to wrap his kittens, who are two beautiful boys, as they cuddle up to one another. Their little pink lips turned into two wonderful little 'o's as they yawn.

Tajima watches Hashirama with a sort of fond nostalgia for his own kids' births. Of course, while both Hashirama and Madara seem surprised there's more than one baby, Tajima _saw_ Tobirama's stomach. Considering he knows that first pregnancies tend towards smaller stomachs because the muscles haven't been stretched out, Tajima knew there was at least more than one.

_Three_ beautiful little babies. Tajima doesn't have to ask Hashirama if he's proud, he can see it in his eyes and the way he holds his babies close.

There's a nudge at his hand that's half underneath the kotatsu and Tajima doesn't dare move. Soft hands pick his hand up and direct it further under, and Tajima has to lean more into the table to stretch, but stretch he does until his hand touches a soft head of hair and a floppy ear tickles his wrist. He strokes the cute doe's head a couple times before withdrawing his hand.

Tobirama is a very good mother, indeed.

With that thought, Tajima makes a note to tell the cooks to go get some nice sashimi for Tobirama. The boy could use the protein.

But that can come after a rest.

Tajima watches as Madara slowly creeps closer and closer despite attempting nonchalance. It's not at all convincing and he can see right through the act. So long as Hashirama is comfortable, Tajima sees no reason as to interrupt.

* * *

Hashirama’s first few months as a parent are a little difficult, because he’s determined to hoard the suffering and terrible experiences for himself. His mate, for his efforts, fares a little better and has taken to hoarding any raw fish at dinner, which is alright.

It’s the beginning of autumn again, and Hashirama’s velvet is peeling. He lies in bed with his kittens and his fawn, his _family_ and watches the rain fall on the red gardens.

They're still staying with Madara and Tajima, who have transformed into grumpy doting uncle and sneaky playful grandfather respectively. Hashirama has offered to leave, but Tajima insists the house is too large to be as empty as it would be without them, so he finds himself under the employ of the castle. Sort of; he's Madara and Tajima's personal guard.

Things are settling nicely, and Hashirama watches as the sun peeks through to wash Tobirama in halo against glittering rain. He smiles, soft and open for his mate.

Tobirama takes a deep breath to welcome the new day. The sound of rain pattering perks his ears up and he opens his eyes and blinks away the sleep to see Hashirama staring at him.

"Morrrning," Tobirama whispers as he leans up for kisses and scenting as they have every morning since Tobirama crawled out from under the kotatsu with their kittens.

Three extremely tired kittens, still tucked up safely between Tobirama and Hashirama's chests. Tobirama trills at them, and all he gets is a few twitches of their ears. A huff of laughter tickles his ear and he turns to see Hashirama still smiling.

"Is autumn," Tobirama starts and licks his lips, "I here to help Hashirama."

And Tobirama knows that Tajima would love to spend time with the kittens, would love to dote on them. They're already interested in the foods that Tobirama eats, opting more and more to gum the tasty food than suckle on him. Of course, his youngest still clings to him so hard, and she's really the only one who still drinks from him—asides from Hashirama's own tasting. But the fact still remains that—

"Want more kittens, with Hashirama, with mate. Always."

"It's autumn," he replies, whispering not to wake their little family, "and I would love to make more kittens and fawns with you. This autumn, and every other, whenever you want. Always and forever."

Because at last Hashirama _understands_ , at last he's _sure_. Tobirama has just asked him to remain his companion, his mate, the father of their brood and the love of his life. How can Hashirama say anything but _yes_ and reply in kind?

"I love you, kitten, and I'm so glad you didn't run away after your flea bath."

His comment earns him a light swat, and the following kiss tastes like the blossoming of love eternal.

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out some _incredible_ artwork/fanart on tumblr [here](https://good-grievance.tumblr.com/post/638000138859757568/watercolor-peacock-madara-based-on) of peacock Madara!


End file.
